


The Revenant

by geri_chan



Series: Always [9]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-07 01:17:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 62,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3155435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geri_chan/pseuds/geri_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Potter refuses to move on after he dies, much to Death's chagrin. As he watches over his son and old friends, he begins to nurse a grudge against his old enemy Snape.</p><p>Originally archived on Ink Stained Fingers on 08/22/05.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. James Meets the Not-So-Grim Reaper

**Author's Note:**

> This is not exactly a crossover, but I borrowed the character Death from Neil Gaiman's Sandman series, since I needed a personification of death.
> 
> Warnings: There are a few brief scenes of violence, though I don't think they warrant a "graphic" warning. Also, there are references to canonical character death, but since the "dead" characters are living on in a kind of afterlife, it didn't quite seem to fall under a "character death" warning.

James Potter chafed at life in Godric's Hollow. It was not so much the slow pace of life in the quiet little village, although he was a man who preferred action and adventure, and it wasn't having to pretend that he was a Muggle. No, it was that he hated sitting at home doing nothing while the other members of the Order of the Phoenix were out risking their lives, his best friends among them. 

But he and Lily and Harry were the last living Potters; the Death Eaters had slaughtered the rest of his family--parents, cousins, aunts and uncles--specifically on Voldemort's orders, according to Dumbledore. James didn't understand why Voldemort was so determined to wipe out the Potters. Dumbledore had told him about the Prophecy when he had sent them into hiding, but the killings had begun before Lily was even pregnant. Of course anyone who openly opposed Voldemort automatically became a target, but he seemed to hold a special grudge against the Potters, for some reason.

"Damn it!" James said, pounding his fist against the wall. "I feel like a coward, sitting here safe and sound while my friends and comrades are out there getting killed!"

"Shh, James," Lily said in a soothing voice, placing her hands gently on his shoulders. "I just put Harry to bed; don't wake him. And you aren't a coward, love. You have the most important task in the world: guarding our son and keeping him safe."

"You're right, Lily," James said, forcing himself to smile at her. She was right; it was important to protect his son, not just because James loved him more than anything in the world except Lily, but because if the Prophecy was right, he would be the one to defeat Voldemort. 

But rather than reassuring James, that thought made him feel even more frustrated and restless than before. Because surely there was no way that a child would be able to defeat the Dark Lord, which meant that they could be stuck here for another eighteen years or more, waiting for Harry to grow into his power--assuming that there was even anything left of the wizarding world for them to save by then. But to complain about a situation he couldn't change was pointless, and would only make Lily feel sad--or irritated at him for wallowing in self-pity, depending on her mood. He knew that this wasn't easy on her, either.

So he smiled and kissed her, and then he really did feel a little better. This exile and captivity would be unbearable without her. And then he heard a voice chanting a spell, and a loud crash at the front door, which shuddered on its hinges and seemed to buckle inwards slightly, as if being struck by a battering ram. 

James turned pale and swore under his breath, cursing himself for his earlier complaints. There was an old saying that you should be careful about what you wish for because you just might get it. He suddenly mourned all those long, safe, boring years in exile that he and his family would likely never live to see. He knew that he would die tonight; he and Lily combined were not strong enough to defeat Voldemort, but maybe, just maybe, he could hold the Dark Lord off long enough for Lily and Harry to escape. 

He pulled out his wand and shouted, "Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off--"

To his great relief, Lily did not argue, but ran straight for Harry's room. If they had been alone, she would never have let him sacrifice himself for her, and would have insisted on fighting by his side, but for Harry's sake, she would flee, and James silently thanked Merlin for that.

They had placed warding spells on the cottage, of course, but James knew that they wouldn't hold for long, not against the Dark Lord's power. Their true protection had been the Fidelius Charm, and James was struck by a feeling of horror and anger as he realized that Peter must have betrayed them.

"How could you do it, Peter?" James whispered. Hadn't they been best friends at Hogwarts? Hadn't he and Sirius saved Peter from a couple of Slytherin bullies on their very first train ride to Hogwarts? How could he betray them this way? 

But even as he asked himself these questions, James thought he knew the answer. He didn't think that Peter would willingly go over to Voldemort, but he had never been very strong or brave; the Death Eaters must have tortured the information out of him. Sirius had not been so clever after all in having them switch Secret-Keepers. James had had his doubts at first, but Sirius swore that no one would suspect Peter, and Peter had seemed so proud to be gifted with the responsibility. 

And James had respected Peter for joining the Order. He had been a little surprised at first that his timid friend would willingly take on such a dangerous job, but Peter had insisted, "You and Sirius and Remus are joining; do you think that I'm such a coward that I would do any less? I know that I'm not as strong or clever or good at magic as the rest of you, but still--I'll do what I can to protect the wizarding world." James had been impressed with his bravery then; Peter had sounded like a true Gryffindor. But clearly, his resolve had not been strong enough to withstand whatever torture the Death Eaters had subjected him to. 

Through his anger, James felt a brief flicker of pity for his friend, but then he had no more time to worry about anyone but himself, because the door exploded into a shower of splinters, and Voldemort strode into the room, cackling madly in a high-pitched voice.

James immediately began hurling spells at Voldemort--stunning spells, attack spells, binding spells--anything he could think of that would slow the Dark Lord down just a little longer, to buy a few more precious minutes for Lily and Harry.

But to his dismay, Voldemort easily deflected them, the way one might swat at an annoying bug--as if the spells were a mere nuisance rather than a threat. The Dark Lord had gotten stronger since their last encounter--and even then, James and Lily had barely escaped with their lives.

"I have no time for this!" Voldemort shouted impatiently, and hurled a hex at James that tore through the shield spell he had conjured up and sent him flying across the room; he hit the wall with a bone-jarring crash. He groaned in pain and his wand slipped out of his hand as bits of paint and plaster fell onto his head and shoulders. He slowly slid down to the floor knowing that he had probably left a man-sized impression embedded in the wall, like one of those Muggle cartoons that he had watched on the television with Lily, that were horribly violent yet so ridiculously silly that you couldn't help but laugh at them. But there was nothing funny at all about this moment.

"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort shouted, and a jet of green light rushing towards him was the last thing James saw before everything went black...

*** 

"Take my hand, James," said a soft female voice.

James blinked and looked up. A girl with white skin and shoulder-length black hair was standing over him. She was wearing a black tank top and jeans, and a silver ankh around her neck. Her eyes were heavily outlined with kohl, with a curling black spiral extending below her right eye. It was the Eye of Horus, a protective magical symbol, James realized with a start, with her own eye incorporated into the design. 

With a surge of hope, James realized that she must be backup from the Order. Dumbledore must have sent her; he had learned of the attack somehow. James didn't recognize her, but he didn't know all of Dumbledore's agents, and surely no Death Eater could have such a kind and gentle face as this girl did. Besides, there was no way that a Death Eater would be caught dead wearing Muggle clothes. But she looked terribly young--perhaps seventeen or eighteen. Had things gotten so bad that the Order was resorting to recruiting children?

"I'm fine," James said, jumping to his feet and brushing off the offer of her hand. Funny...he could have sworn that he'd broken bones when he'd hit the wall, but he felt no pain now. He must have been only briefly stunned. "We've got to hurry!" he said urgently. "Voldemort has gone after Harry, and Lily won't be able to hold him off for long!"

The girl smiled at him sadly and repeated, "Take my hand, James."

"I told you, I'm fine!" James snapped. Why the hell was she offering him a hand up when he was already on his feet? 

"You are not fine, James," the girl said softly. "Look down."

James looked down to see his own body lying at his feet. "Oh my God," he whispered, turning pale.

"Take my hand, James," the girl said again, and this time James looked into her eyes and saw that although her face was young, her dark eyes seemed to contain infinite wisdom and sorrow and compassion. They were not the eyes of a teenage girl, but the eyes of an ancient being--not merely someone old and wise like Dumbledore, but a goddess or immortal spirit.

"You...are Death," James whispered.

"I am," Death said with a smile. 

"Funny," James said, blurting out the first thing that came to mind. "I would have expected you to be male--you know, Grim Reaper with a scythe and all that."

Death grinned mischievously, and she looked like a teenage girl again; she could almost have been a Gryffindor student at Hogwarts. "That's because the people who created those tales were a bit sexist. Sorry to disappoint you."

"Uh...not disappointed, just surprised," James said, feeling dazed; he couldn't believe that he was standing around chatting pleasantly with Death! It all seemed like some sort of bizarre dream, perhaps brought on by too much Firewhiskey.

"Take my hand, James," Death said, holding out her hand towards him.

And then James knew, no matter how much he might have wished otherwise, that this was no dream. "I can't die!" he said desperately. "Not yet! My wife and son--"

"Are beyond your help," Death said, quietly but firmly, smiling at him sadly once again. "And you are already dead. Take my hand, James."

"Please," James begged, "I'm not afraid to die, but can't you give me just a little more time? Enough to save my wife and son?"

"I do not bargain," Death said. "I do not choose who lives and who dies. I merely conduct each dead soul to what lies beyond the world of the living. Death comes to each man and woman when it is time, whether they are ready or not. Take my hand, James."

"Lily!" James shouted frantically, ignoring her outstretched hand. "Harry!" He ran past Death and sprinted up the stairs.

Death followed after him, cursing under her breath, "Bloody pain-in-the-arse wizards! Can't they ever come along quietly without an argument?"

Lily was in the nursery, standing in front of the crib, arms outstretched, barring Voldemort's way and shielding Harry with her own body. There was broken furniture scattered all over the room, and Lily's wand lay on the floor in pieces, but both she and Harry appeared to be unharmed.

"Not Harry!" Lily pleaded desperately. "Not Harry! Please--I'll do anything--"

"Stand aside," Voldemort said impatiently. "Stand aside, girl!"

"Please!" Lily screamed. "Take my life, but don't hurt Harry! He's only a baby; what threat could he possibly be to you?"

"It is not what he is now that I fear," Voldemort said, "but what he will be when he grows up. He is already dead, girl. But if you hand him over to me now, I will spare your life."

"Never!" Lily shouted.

"Then so be it," Voldemort said grimly and raised his wand.

"NO!" screamed James and ran forward to grab Voldemort's arm, to try and wrestle the wand out of his grasp, but his hands slipped through the other wizard as if he wasn't there. And neither Voldemort nor Lily appeared to be aware of his presence.

"I told you, James, you are already dead!" Death said, a bit peevishly, then seeing the stricken look on his face, said in a more gentle and compassionate voice, "The dead cannot affect the world of the living."

James looked down at his hands, which were beginning to turn transparent. It was not Voldemort who was insubstantial, but himself.

"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort shouted, as James screamed, "NOOOOO!!!" 

Lily fell to the floor, and then a second Lily arose from the body, looking around in confusion.

"Take my hand, Lily," Death said, although from the resigned tone of her voice, it didn't seem like she expected that command to be obeyed.

"Who are you?" Lily asked, still looking confused, then she spotted her husband. "James! We have to help Harry!"

But Voldemort was already pointing his wand at Harry and shouting, "AVADA KEDAVRA!" His crimson eyes were gleaming with triumph and wicked glee. But when the spell struck Harry, it seemed to rebound back towards Voldemort, who stared in disbelief and horror. The green light of the curse seemed to magnify and expand, until the entire room was flooded with green light, and then there was an explosion and the house fell to pieces around them as Voldemort wailed in fear and pain and rage.

James and Lily found themselves clinging to each other standing on top of the heap of rubble when the explosion was over. Death stood calmly a few feet away from them.

"Harry!" Lily shouted, but then the sound of a baby crying emerged from beneath the rubble, and Lily wept in relief. She knelt down to try and dig him out of the wreckage, but her hands slipped right through it, as James's hands had slipped through Voldemort.

"You are no longer of this world, Lily," Death said kindly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "But do not fear; your love protected your son, and I shall not come for him this day."

Lily looked up, and her green eyes widened in comprehension, as she recognized--much more quickly than James had--exactly who Death was. "Then Harry is safe?" she whispered.

"For now," Death said.

"And Voldemort?" James asked sharply. "Is he dead? I don't see you asking for his hand!"

Death looked annoyed. "His body is dead, but he has found a way to keep his spirit alive and evade my grasp. I will not come for him this day, either."

"Please?" Lily begged. "Before we go, can you at least tell us, will our son survive and defeat the Dark Lord as the Prophecy said?"

Death smiled at her gently. "Seeing the future is the domain of my older brother, not mine, I'm afraid. But I can say that I shall not come for him anytime soon, I think."

"Thank you," Lily whispered, and Death regarded her with a compassionate look. 

"It's bending the rules a bit, but I suppose we can wait till young Harry is rescued before I take you on to the afterlife."

"Oh, thank you!" Lily said, smiling at Death gratefully as tears spilled out of her eyes.

"You have a very nice wife," Death told James approvingly. "Much more polite than you are." James managed a weak chuckle, and he put his arm around Lily, and was relieved to find that she felt substantial to him, at least. They held each other while they waited, for what seemed like hours, until Hagrid came along and pulled Harry out of the ruins of the cottage. The baby seemed unharmed except for a jagged scar on his forehead. 

"Poor little feller," Hagrid wept, gently cradling the baby in his huge arms. "Poor James and Lily!"

"Hagrid, we're right here!" James shouted, waving his arms at his friend, but Hagrid ignored him.

"He cannot see or hear you, James," Death said, somewhat unnecessarily. James knew that she was right, but somehow he couldn't stop himself from trying.

They heard the roar of a motor in the sky, and Sirius descended, landing his motorcycle on the ground. "Harry!" Sirius cried, his face pale. "Is he all right?"

"'He seems ter be fine," Hagrid replied. "'Cept fer this little scratch."

"Oh, thank Merlin!" Sirius sighed. "And James and Lily?" Hagrid just shook his head, tears running down his face, and Sirius wept as well. But then he quickly brushed the tears from his eyes and held out his arms, saying, "I'll take him home, Hagrid."

Hagrid shook his head. "Dumbledore said ter bring Harry straight ter him."

"But I'm Harry's godfather," Sirius said. "I'm supposed to look after him if..." His voice cracked. "If anything happens to James and Lily."

Hagrid looked sympathetic, but did not hand over the baby. "I'm just followin' orders, Sirius," he said firmly. "Dumbledore said bring Harry ter him, an' tha's what I'm goin' ter do."

Sirius nodded reluctantly. "Then take my motorcycle, Hagrid; it will be quicker than flying by broomstick. I suppose Harry will be safest with Dumbledore for now. Get him to safety as quickly as you can."

"Thanks, Sirius," Hagrid said, and flew off with Harry. Sirius remained a couple minutes longer, weeping in front of the ruined cottage, while James tried futilely to get his attention. Finally he wiped his eyes and picked up Hagrid's broomstick. 

"Goodbye, Prongs and Lily," he whispered.

Lily brushed a ghostly kiss across his cheek. "Goodbye, Sirius. Watch over Harry for us." Sirius showed no sign of noticing either the kiss or her words, and mounted the broomstick and flew off.

"Take my hand, James and Lily," Death said quietly, holding out her hands. Lily reached out and took one of her hands, but James shook his head stubbornly. Death sighed irritably. "I swear, you wizards are such a pain in the arse. Will you choose to become a ghost, then, James, and live out eternity neither dead nor alive?"

"No!" Lily cried in horror. "James, you can't become a ghost--that's a fate worse than death! Please, I don't want to leave Harry, either, but we are dead. We cannot protect him any longer. We'll have to trust to Sirius and Remus and our other friends to look after Harry. You know that they'll protect him with their lives, if necessary, as we did. And they'll love him just as much as we would."

"I don't want to become a ghost," James said. "But I'm not ready to leave yet, either. I want to watch over my son until I'm sure that he'll be safe."

"But Sirius--"

"I know that Sirius would give his life to protect Harry," James said grimly, "but that might not be enough. What if Voldemort and the Death Eaters kill him too, and leave Harry without a protector?"

"But surely Dumbledore--"

"I love and respect the old man, but Dumbledore is not infallible!" James snapped. "It was his idea for us to go into hiding, and that did not protect us!"

"Death said that she would not come for him yet," Lily said softly. "We'll have to trust that Harry will grow up and fulfill the Prophecy." She smiled, tears running down her face. "And that Death will not bring him to meet us until he is a very old man, having lived a very happy and full life."

"I can make no promises," Death said quietly, smiling back at Lily. "But I would like that, too."

"That's not good enough," James said, his voice hard and cold with resolve. "I will watch over my son until Voldemort is dead and Harry is safe."

"Watching is all you will be able to do," Death cautioned. "As I keep telling you, the dead cannot affect the world of the living, not unless you choose to become a ghost and become forever bound to the earth, giving up your chance to pass on to the next life. And if you do that, you will never see Lily again."

"James!" Lily pleaded desperately, still weeping. "Come with me, please!"

"Those are your choices," Death said. "To become a ghost, to pass from this world and into the next, or to exist in limbo as a passive observer until you can up make up your mind."

"Then I will wait, and remain in limbo," James said. "I'm sorry, Lily, but I can't be with you until I'm sure that Harry is safe."

"Why do you always have to be so pigheaded, James Potter?" Lily demanded, glaring at him.

James smiled. "I know that I'm a stubborn bastard, but that's why you love me."

Lily laughed and wept at the same time, and Death tugged gently on her hand and said, "It is time, Lily."

A doorway suddenly seemed to open up before them, filled with a warm, golden light. "I'll wait for you, James," Lily called, turning back one last time to look at him before following Death into the light. "I'll wait!"

The light looked so warm and welcoming, like the sunrise on a fine summer day, that for a moment, James was tempted to follow them. It was as if he could feel Lily and all his other lost loved ones beckoning to him, calling for him to join them. He took one step forward, then thought of Harry, and forced himself to remain where he was standing, and the door closed up behind Lily and Death.

He stood beside his ruined home, uncertain of what to do next. He said that he would watch over Harry, but how was he supposed to accomplish that? Hagrid said that he was taking Harry to Dumbledore, which presumably meant Hogwarts. But James couldn't walk all the way to Hogwarts, and even if he could find a broomstick in this Muggle village, he wouldn't be able to ride it, since he couldn't touch anything in the world of the living. He wondered if it was possible for him to fly, the way ghosts could. He wasn't precisely a ghost, but he wasn't exactly alive, either.

But then Death suddenly reappeared out of nowhere and grabbed his arm. "Hey!" James protested. "I told you, I'm not going with you yet!"

"I can't force a wizard to cross the threshold of life and death against his will, the way I can a normal human," Death said crossly. "I'm just taking you to a waiting place, where you will remain until you make your final choice. Don't worry, you'll be able to watch Harry from there, for all the good it will do--there is nothing you can do to help him, even if he is attacked again. You do not belong here, James. You belong with Lily, who is waiting for you." James shook his head stubbornly, and Death sighed, "Well, I tried." 

And then another doorway opened, although this one did not seem nearly so welcoming, and Death pulled him through it.


	2. The Waiting Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James watches over Harry, and gets a look at the past from another perspective. While stuck in the waiting room, he encounters an old enemy.

James found himself in a small room lit by fluorescent lights. There was a slightly shabby couch against one wall, and a coffee table in front of it, scattered with Muggle and wizarding magazines that were several months to a couple of years out of date. There was also a remote control on the coffee table, presumably for the television resting on a small stand on the opposite side of the room. James recognized the room, or at least the type of room, from his numerous trips to the Muggle world with Lily. The room was quite similar to ones he had seen in the wizarding world too, minus the television and Muggle magazines.

"You're telling me that Limbo is a doctor's waiting room?" James asked incredulously.

Death grinned mischievously and winked at him. "Well, it's appropriate, don't you think? Essentially, that's what Limbo is--a waiting room for those who can't decide whether to remain on Earth as a ghost or move on."

James looked around the empty room. "Am I the only one here? Surely there are others who aren't ready to move on..."

"Not as many as you'd think," Death replied. "Only wizards, for the most part, have the power to linger on after death. There are a few others here, but they all have their own waiting rooms. Call me when you're ready to make your decision, James. I have a busy schedule, so I might not be able to come right away, but never fear, I will hear your voice no matter where I am, and I'll come as soon as I am able." She smiled at him. "Don't keep that pretty wife of yours waiting too long!" A doorway opened out of thin air and Death stepped through it.

"Death!" James shouted. "Death, wait! You said I could watch over Harry--how am I supposed to do that from here?" But it was too late; the doorway vanished, and Death along with it. "Damn it," James muttered to himself, and flopped down on the couch in defeat. He idly flipped through a few of the magazines, but he wasn't interested in months-old news of the war in the wizarding world, and neither was he interested in Muggle politics or fashion tips. He tossed them aside, picked up the remote, and turned on the television.

To his surprise, he saw Peter Pettigrew running down a busy London street, with Sirius in hot pursuit. Several hours seemed to have passed since he had left Godric's Hollow with Death, although it had seemed like only minutes to James. There was a look of murderous rage on Sirius's face; he would have known, of course, that only one person could have given up the location of the Potters' hiding place to Voldemort. But if Peter was alive, and apparently unharmed, then that meant he had not been tortured by the Death Eaters after all...

Peter abruptly wheeled about to face Sirius and sobbed, "Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?" James knew Peter well enough to recognize crocodile tears when he saw them; Peter had often tried to cry and plead his way out of trouble at school, feigning tears and contrition when he was caught in some misdeed. He had done it well enough to have had his detention lessened by a softhearted teacher more than once, and James and Sirius had laughed and congratulated him on his acting skills. But James was not laughing now. Peter had been a much better actor than anyone suspected...

"You're dead, Pettigrew!" Sirius snarled, and reached for his wand.

Peter raised his own wand first, and a huge explosion tore a crater in the street and sent chunks of concrete, metal, and dirty water flying into the air (the explosion had blasted deep enough to crack open the sewer), along with several bodies, some of them screaming, others falling to the ground silently, no longer people but lumps of dead flesh. And a teenage girl dressed in black appeared to offer the confused spirits her hand, smiling at them kindly, although none of the living people seemed to notice her. 

But James didn't care about Death, at least, not right now. His attention was focused on Peter. Under the cover of the smoke generated by the explosion, he sliced off one of his fingers with a knife, letting it fall onto the street, then turned into a rat and scuttled into the crater and disappeared into the open sewer pipe.

"Damn you, Peter!" James screamed at television. "You betrayed us! The Death Eaters didn't torture you, did they? You joined them willingly! And not only did you betray us to Voldemort, you're framing Sirius for your crimes!" And he knew, with a sickening sense of certainty, that everyone would believe that Sirius was the traitor, because they had told no one, not even Dumbledore and Remus, that James had made Peter his Secret-Keeper instead of Sirius.

"Surely Dumbledore will figure out the truth," James whispered desperately. "Surely he'll at least hear out what Sirius has to say. Surely Moony will know that Padfoot could never have done such a horrible thing."

But when Sirius was dragged off to Azkaban without even a trial, Dumbledore only looked sad and weary when he heard the news. And Remus looked angry, bitter, and despairing all at the same time; he clearly believed the worst of Sirius. Things had deteriorated between them ever since that incident in the Shrieking Shack, but James hadn't thought that things were so bad that Remus would believe Sirius capable of betrayal and murder. 

But then again, before James had gone into hiding, Sirius had dropped hints that Remus might be something less than trustworthy, so the distrust went both ways. James had very angrily and vocally expressed his disbelief that Remus could turn traitor, and Sirius had backed off and said that he had only meant that Remus was too trusting and might accidentally let something slip to the wrong person. 

James had known that he meant Snape, and while James agreed that the Slytherin was a slimy bastard, he knew that Remus had not had any contact with Snape since they graduated. He knew this from the perpetual sorrow in his friend's eyes, and from the way he refused any attempt by his friends to set him up with a date, either female or male. James knew that Moony still pined over Snape, even though he never spoke of it. He wouldn't be so sad if he were still seeing Snape, and besides, James knew that Remus wasn't capable of such betrayal. Of course, he had never thought that Peter would ever betray him either...

James couldn't take it anymore, and switched off the television. But then he quickly turned it back on, remembering that he was supposed to be watching over Harry. What would happen to him now that his godfather was in prison? James and Lily had never thought to designate an alternate guardian. He flipped randomly through the channels, then stopped when he saw Hagrid drive Sirius's motorcycle to Privet Drive.

"NO!" James shouted, as Dumbledore took Harry from Hagrid and left him on the Dursleys' doorstep. "You can't hand him over to those petty, spiteful people--they'll treat him like dirt and make his life miserable just because they hated Lily and me! Damn you, Albus, why else do you think we wrote in our will that Sirius should care for Harry instead of Petunia?" He screamed at Dumbledore, pounding on the screen of the television, but clearly Dumbledore could not see or hear him. Finally he gave up in despair and sank to his knees, weeping, as Petunia opened the door, picked up the baby, and frowned down at him.

Why on earth had he remained behind when he could do nothing to help Harry, James wondered despondently. He briefly considered giving up his chance of an afterlife to become a ghost, a sacrifice he would be willing to make if it meant that he could protect his son, but a ghost would not be able to raise and care for an infant. He almost called for Death to come and take him to Lily, but something inside him refused to give up. Even if he could do nothing but watch, he would watch over his son until he was safe or Death came for them both. Even if Harry was never aware of it, he would not be alone; he would always be watched over by someone who loved him.

Watching Sirius rot in Azkaban or Harry be abused, verbally and emotionally if not physically, by his aunt and uncle, was too draining for James to watch for long, and he would turn the television off when he could take no more. But there was nothing else to do in the waiting room but read old magazines, so eventually he would no longer be able to stand the boredom and would turn it back on again. 

He wasn't sure how much time passed in the waiting room; there was no clock on the wall, and no windows to tell him whether it was night or day outside. He couldn't tell by mealtimes either, because no food or water ever appeared in the room, and James never grew hungry or thirsty--not surprisingly, he supposed, since he was dead. The television was not much help, either: sometimes events played out in what seemed like real time, and sometimes they would jump forward by hours or days. He found that by flipping through the channels, he could also view the past, although the same channel rarely ever showed the same thing twice. Most times they showed the present, sometimes skipping forward a few days or weeks or months into the future (or maybe it was that time flowed faster in the limbo of the waiting room), and occasionally they would show him the past.

Maybe it was because he happened to be thinking about Remus, wondering what would become of him with his best friends dead or in prison or in hiding, that one day the television began playing scenes from their schoolboy days at Hogwarts, all focusing on Remus and Snape. And with those scenes singled out and played in sequence, James began to get an inkling of how their relationship had developed. He had never realized before that Snape was always lurking in the background, his black eyes focused on Remus. 

Of course James had known that Snape had followed them around a lot in school. He had assumed at the time that Snape's main targets were himself and Sirius, and that he had been waiting for an opportunity to hex them or get them in trouble. But it was obvious now, watching as a spectator, that it had always been Remus that Snape was watching, to an obsessive degree. When Snape's gaze shifted towards James or Sirius, it was usually with a look of jealousy because Remus was laughing at something they had said. James felt strangely chagrined to realize that he had never been the main focus in their long-standing rivalry and mutual hatred; in a way, he had almost been an afterthought, because it seemed that Snape hated him only because he had been jealous of James's friendship with Remus.

Well, that was not entirely true; likely he and Snape would still have loathed each other, their personalities and beliefs too different for friendship or even tolerance, but their feud would probably never have become so intense if it had not been for Remus. James was not quite sure why that should bother him so much. If Lily had been here, she probably would have made some tart and sarcastic remark like, "You can't stand not being the center of the universe, James Potter."

James smiled wistfully. She had always known how to cut his ego down to size; Merlin, he missed her so much! Of course, all he had to do was call out to Death, and he could be with her right now...

James stubbornly shook his head, clinging to his resolve to watch over Harry. He turned his attention back to the television screen again, wondering why it was showing him these scenes of Snape and Remus. Did they relate to Harry somehow? Perhaps Snape might become a threat to him, or Remus would find a way to befriend him. Or was it all completely random, with no set pattern or purpose?

He continued to watch, with some discomfort, the blossoming friendship that developed between Snape and Remus while they worked together on Professor Blackmore's project, which eventually led to their first kiss. But even the knowledge that Snape had apparently been in love with Remus did not make James feel more kindly disposed towards him. He knew how this would all turn out in the end, of course, that Snape would turn against Moony after Sirius played his stupid prank. Of course, that was partly Padfoot's fault, but if Snape had really loved Remus, he should have had more faith in him, right? He should have believed Remus when he said that he'd had nothing to do with the prank.

And there was a darkness in Snape's eyes that James didn't like. It seemed to him that they were filled with neediness and desperation and anger rather than affection or tenderness. It was more as if he wanted to possess Remus rather than love him, as if what he felt was closer to need than to love, and that he hated himself for needing Remus.

And James didn't understand why Remus loved Snape. It was true that there were a few moments where Snape actually behaved like a decent human being when he and Remus were alone, James grudgingly conceded. But there were plenty of people out there who were much nicer--not to mention much better-looking--than Snape. Why hadn't he fallen in love with one of them, with someone who would be nice to him all the time, and not just when his snobby Slytherin friends weren't around?

Maybe it was just that Remus had always been a softie, and he felt sorry for Snape because no one else liked him. Yes, that was probably it, James thought, feeling a little disgusted. Remus was the sort where if he had been given a litter of puppies to choose from, he would always have picked the runt of the litter that no one else wanted, rather than the cutest or friendliest puppy. But still, if his relationship with Snape had been based mainly on pity, it seemed strange that he would still be pining over him years later. James finally gave up trying to figure it out and turned off the television.

The next time he turned it back on, it showed the present, more or less. He learned from watching Dumbledore that it was Snape who had been his spy among the Death Eaters, and what shocked him even more was that it had been Snape who had sent Dumbledore the news that Voldemort had found the Potters' hiding place--of course it had come too late, which James found suspiciously convenient, but Snape did not seem pleased by the news of James's and Lily's deaths, only bitter and resigned. 

James wasn't quite sure what to think. Up until his death, he had been certain that Snape was a Death Eater, but then again, Dumbledore wasn't a fool. He wouldn't have blindly put his trust in Snape without having some kind of assurance that Snape would not betray him. Testing his theory that he could control what the television showed him, he willed it to show him the moment that Snape had become Dumbledore's spy.

The scene shifted, showing a slightly younger Snape, about eighteen years old, standing in the Headmaster's office and pulling up his sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark, which must have been newly-branded on his arm, judging by the redness and swelling of the skin surrounding it. James listened while Snape described the Death Eaters' induction ceremony, and how a Muggle-born wizard had been offered up as a blood sacrifice during it. He claimed not to have known until then the true nature of the Death Eaters' plans, and he seemed sincerely horrified and remorseful about the sacrifice's death. Dumbledore clearly believed him, and offered Snape redemption as a spy, to make up for his previous errors, but James was uncertain. The television could show him the past, but it did not allow him to enter the thoughts of the people on the screen; there was no way to tell whether Snape was lying or not.

James could not judge the passage of time in the waiting room, but on the television screen, days passed by, then weeks, then months, then years. Sirius remained in Azkaban, maintaining a fragile hold on his sanity only by spending most of his time in dog form. Peter Pettigrew lived in disguise as a pet in the Weasley household. Remus became a virtual hermit, hiding away in his cottage in the woods, just barely earning enough to survive on intermittent jobs, most of them sent his way by Dumbledore. He was unable to hold down a regular job because either he would be fired for getting sick so often and missing too much work, or his more perceptive employers would eventually realize that his sick days coincided with the full moon and would cast him out, saying, "We don't need your kind here!" 

What hurt most, though, was to see Harry growing up in the Dursley household, treated like a servant and constantly berated by his aunt and uncle, taunted and bullied by his cousin Dudley. It was hard for James to believe that these horrible people could actually be related to his kind and compassionate Lily. But it heartened James slightly to see that Harry's spirit was never broken. He could have given in to despair, or become mean and bitter in response to the Dursleys' abuse, but he essentially remained a kindhearted boy, and even defied the Dursleys occasionally, sometimes with verbal retorts, and other times with unintentional mischief caused by his growing magical powers. 

James laughed along with Harry when he made the glass panel in the Reptile House disappear and Dudley fell into the snake's enclosure. Maybe, James thought hopefully, his decision to remain and watch over Harry had not been a futile exercise, after all. Maybe Harry could somehow sense James watching over him, even if he wasn't consciously aware of it, and perhaps that was why the Dursleys had not been able to break his spirit. 

Whether or not this was true or simply wishful thinking, James always whispered, "I love you, Harry," each time he turned on the television and saw his son on the screen, and when he saw Harry climb into bed at night, weary from all the chores he had done that day, he would say, "Goodnight, son. Sleep well." Sometimes he would kiss Harry goodnight by pressing his lips against the image of his son's cheek on the glass screen. He probably looked foolish, but what did it matter? There was no one here to see.

And finally, despite the Dursleys' best attempts, Harry was sent to Hogwarts, and James cried out in triumph and joy. Finally, Harry would be among his own kind, and take his rightful place in the wizarding world! He heartily approved of Harry's choice of friends--the Weasleys were good folk, and little Hermione reminded him a great deal of Lily when she had been that age. Not surprisingly, he quickly made an enemy of Lucius Malfoy's brat, but James approved of that, too. Of course it could be dangerous to incur the Malfoys' wrath, but he was glad that Harry had not been fooled by them as so many others had.

He was outraged, though, to see how Snape, who was now working at Hogwarts as a teacher, treated Harry. It was clear that he was taking out all his hatred of James on the boy, going out of his way to humiliate Harry and find fault with him.

"You slimy, petty bastard," James snarled at the screen, although he knew that Snape couldn't hear him. "To pick on a child who's done you no harm just because you hate his father? I thought that even you might have a little pity for an orphan, but I should have known better! I can't imagine what Remus ever saw in you!"

Snape, of course, did not acknowledge his tirade, but continued watching Harry with the same obsessive hatred and loathing he'd had for James. And so James was startled by what happened at the Quidditch match. At first, like Hermione and Ron, he thought that Snape was the one hexing Harry, causing the broom to attempt to buck him off. But when he looked at Snape more closely, he could see that Snape's lips were forming the syllables of a counter-curse, not an active curse or hex. Could it be that Snape was actually trying to protect Harry, not hurt him?

He could not make himself believe it, not until Harry defeated the possessed Quirrell, and Dumbledore explained that Snape had been working to protect Harry in order to discharge the debt he owed to James for saving his life. James wasn't sure who was more stunned--himself or Harry. He had never imagined that Snape might feel indebted to him. He had never imagined that Snape had enough honor to acknowledge a life-debt, much less repay it. Could it be that Snape wasn't as much of a bastard as he seemed?

Snape still picked on Harry in his second year, but James was less concerned about him this time, since he seemed to restrain his hostility to detention and verbal insults. The real threat, James realized, was Voldemort, still disembodied but no less dangerous. James's heart had nearly stopped (or would have, if he had not already been dead) when Harry had confronted Voldemort/Quirrell at the end of his first year, and James spent another "year" (although again, he could not really tell how quickly time was passing) in the waiting room sick with fear as the creature in the Chamber of Secrets whispered to Harry, insinuating itself into his thoughts, and Voldemort deceived him with Tom Riddle's diary. 

But again, Harry triumphed, slaying the Basilisk with Godric Gryffindor's own sword, and destroying the diary with the Basilisk's tooth. James wept with relief then, his heart bursting with pride and love for his son. He began to believe that Harry really was the hero of the Prophecy, and that he would be the one to vanquish the Dark Lord, maybe sooner than they had expected.

In Harry's third year, Snape seemed to move from a grudging truce into open warfare, because the true object of his obsession--Remus--returned to Hogwarts. James learned from watching Dumbledore through the television that the only reason he had been able to hire Remus was because no one else wanted the position. When one DADA teacher was killed and another driven mad in the space of two years, people began to say that the position was jinxed, which scared off most potential applicants.

The rage in Snape's black eyes whenever he looked at Harry or Remus bordered on madness, and James began to fear for his friend's and his son's lives. But although Snape's vindictiveness reached new heights (taking out his spite on Harry's friends and reducing Hermione to tears by taking off points for "being an insufferable know-it-all"), he still managed to keep his rage in check, at least enough not to kill anyone. And he reluctantly brewed the Wolfsbane Potion for Remus on Dumbledore's orders.

James was shocked to learn that Snape was the one who had actually invented the potion, and he learned of it only because Remus revealed it during a confrontation with Snape. Perhaps he might have learned about it on his own if he had been watching Snape more closely during the years before Harry entered Hogwarts, but he had been concentrating more on watching his old friends and Harry, and the television seemed to be guided by his wishes, to a certain extent. That was the day that Remus renewed his romance with Snape, breaking down the Potions Master's resistance by literally fainting into his arms. James watched, feeling a little queasy as they desperately kissed and groped at each other, and he finally switched off the television when it reached the point where they were tearing off each other's clothes in Snape's quarters.

Snape seemed happier than James had ever seen him, and he was grudgingly impressed when Snape remained with Remus during the full moon, although he didn't know whether to be amused or disgusted by the sight of Remus wagging his tail while Snape scratched him behind the ears. However, his newfound happiness did not seem to lessen his hatred for Harry--if anything, Snape seemed to hate him more, as was made obvious by the way he berated Harry after his illicit trip to Hogsmeade. Or rather--it was James that Snape still hated venomously, despite the fact that he had now been dead for twelve years.

When Harry threw the fact that James had saved his life in Snape's face, Snape turned pale and snarled, "There was nothing brave about what he did. He was saving his skin as much as mine. Had their joke succeeded, he would have been expelled from Hogwarts."

"You bloody liar!" James screamed, pounding his fists uselessly on the television screen. How dare he tell such a blatant lie to Harry! He had saved Snape because he had wanted to protect Moony from being punished for injuring or killing a human, and also because even a slimy git like Snape didn't deserve to be murdered--although he was not so sure of that last part now. He hated Snape for the hint of doubt that he saw in Harry's eyes, for trying to make Harry believe that his father was was a selfish, petty coward.

Things went from bad to worse as Sirius and Peter finally revealed themselves to Remus and to Harry and his friends. Snape never saw Peter, only Sirius, and he accused Remus of betraying him. Because of Snape, Sirius remained a fugitive and Harry was denied the chance to live with a loving godfather instead of the Dursleys. James was furious, and he could not forgive Snape, even though Remus eventually did.

The following school year, Snape continued his petty vendetta against Harry, although he was distracted somewhat by a new student, the son of his deceased Death Eater friend, Evan Rosier. The boy was as handsome and charming as his father, which worried James. He knew that evil could lurk behind a charming smile and the outward semblance of respectability--Lucius Malfoy was proof of that. But Dylan Rosier was still a child and only a minor annoyance right now, although he might well prove to be as dangerous as his father in the future. 

The true danger to Harry was Voldemort and the false Mad-Eye Moody. The television revealed to James early on that Moody was really Barty Crouch Junior, and although James desperately strove to communicate that information to Dumbledore and Harry, hoping that he could somehow reach them by sheer force of will, his efforts were as useless as always. But Harry miraculously escaped Voldemort and survived yet again, although Cedric Diggory died. James wept when he saw the ghostly image of himself emerge from Voldemort's wand, although it was not really him and only a shadow of a memory. Still, he was glad that he had been able to aid Harry in some small way, even if only indirectly. He wept in sorrow for the slain Cedric and his family, and also in guilt, because a small part of him was relieved that it was Cedric who had died and not Harry.

Things grew even worse in Harry's fifth year. The Death Eaters broke out of prison and Malfoy's lackeys had control of the Ministry. Snape began working as a spy again, and James watched over him closely. So far he had not yet betrayed Dumbledore, but James still didn't trust him. He did see a few tender moments between Snape and Remus, but that was not enough to make James forgive him or trust him any better. Watching those moments made him uneasy, and he usually quickly changed the channel when they came on. 

He told himself that it was because he didn't want to watch Snape having sex with his best friend, but it was the emotional intimacy as much as the physical that unnerved him. Secretly, he didn't want to watch, because he didn't want to have to change his opinion of Snape. And soon Snape made it all too easy to hate him unreservedly, when James had to watch him give Occlumency lessons to Harry. 

Oh, certainly he went through the motions of teaching, but he berated and belittled Harry to such an extent that he made it almost impossible for Harry to learn effectively. It made him suspect that Snape was deliberately trying to fail in his lessons in order to leave Harry vulnerable to Voldemort, although there was no real evidence to support that theory. Maybe he was just an obnoxious bastard. Still, if he was a loyal member of the Order, one would think that he could set his ego and his animosity aside long enough to teach Harry to defend himself.

James was almost as unnerved as Harry was by the glimpse he saw of Snape's childhood during the Occlumency lessons. Against his will, he felt a twinge of pity when he saw Snape's father cast what seemed to be a Cruciatus Curse on a five or six-year-old Snape. But then he told himself that a rotten childhood was still no excuse for becoming a Death Eater, or for treating Harry the way he did. After all, Sirius and Remus had had a tough time growing up, too, and they had not turned out the way Snape had.

And then Snape did something that James could never forgive: he turned Harry against James. He had not done it intentionally, but that didn't make James hate him any less. When Snape was called away in the middle of an Occlumency lesson to deal with an emergency, Harry, like the curious boy he was, stole a look at the memories in Snape's Pensieve, and he saw the old prank that James and Sirius had played on Snape, when they had hexed and pantsed him beside the lake on a fine summer day. James laughed at first as he recalled that day, but his laughter quickly died away when he saw the look of horror and betrayal on his son's face.

"It was just a joke," James whispered. "It was supposed to be funny--it was hilarious at the time."

_Maybe it wasn't so hilarious for Snape,_ his conscience suggested.

James angrily clenched his fists. Okay, maybe that had been a nasty prank, but so what? It was only a childish prank, it wasn't as if he'd committed murder or something, and Snape had certainly hexed James often enough. "Why don't you show him all the times that you hexed me, huh?" James demanded of Snape's Pensieve, which of course remained silent.

James also noticed for the first time that Remus looked sick with fear and disgust, although he doggedly pretended to ignore what was going on. At one point, he glanced towards James as if he wanted to tell him to stop, then turned back to his book, his eyes filled with fear, as if afraid that his friend might turn on him next.

"How could you think that, Moony?" James whispered, stricken by the look in his friend's eyes. "How could you ever think that we would turn on you? We would never treat you that way." He also saw Lily come up and chew him out for attacking Snape. He remembered that well. It had taken a long time for him to win her respect and affection after that.

Harry was obviously troubled by what he had seen, so troubled that he went to the risk of breaking into Umbridge's office to take the Floo and talk to Sirius and Remus--and to Professor Blackmore, who had recently come out of hiding after being assumed dead for years. It made him wonder about the kinds of allies Dumbledore was recruiting--a former Death Eater who had already betrayed one master, and a woman with demon blood. What made him so sure that they wouldn't turn against the Order in the end?

It broke James's heart to hear Harry confide in Sirius and Remus, to hear that his son thought that he was arrogant, an idiot, and a jerk. They did their best to reassure him, but James found those reassurances slightly insulting. They were both ashamed of that prank now, and told Harry that his father had been an idiot at the time, but that he had grown out of it.

"I know it was a bit childish," James said sullenly, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the television. "But dammit, it was just a prank! It wasn't a big deal. Has anyone forgotten that Snape willingly joined the Death Eaters, even if he supposedly had a change of heart later? Which one of us is the bad guy here?"

Blackmore also gave him some backhanded praise, telling Harry that his father had been a good man for the most part, but that he had been callow and cruel at times, because he had been prejudiced. Well, her actual words were "he saw things in black and white," but he knew what she meant, and so did Harry.

"Well, thanks a lot," James said sarcastically.

Harry was somewhat reassured, but James knew that Harry's view of him would never be the same again. Whenever Harry looked at the photos he had of James, he gazed at them with a slightly troubled look in his eyes. Harry would never again look at those photos with that expression of pure adoration and hero worship. And maybe it was unrealistic to want him to. 

James knew that all human beings, even the best of them, had flaws, and that Harry would not have worshipped him so blindly if James had lived to raise him. They would have loved each other, but occasionally quarreled, as fathers and sons do. But James couldn't be there to work through the quarrels and disagreements. He couldn't be there to reassure Harry or tell his side of the story. It hurt so much to see Harry so disappointed in him, and whether reasonable or not, James thought to himself that he would never, ever forgive Snape for ruining his image in Harry's eyes. 

Even when Snape saved Sirius's life by risking his own, James still couldn't bring himself to forgive Snape, although Harry softened towards him slightly. Harry's relationship with Snape was still far from cordial, and awkward at best, but he seemed to be making an effort to get along better with the Potions Master, and that only made James resent Snape even more. 

It was as if Snape was turning first Remus and then Harry against him. It disturbed him to know that Harry felt a little sorry for Snape--or at least the younger version of Snape that he had seen in the Pensieve--even though he still disliked his teacher. It made him uneasy that Harry was obviously trying to understand Snape better by asking Sirius questions about Snape and his family. It made James feel guilty and ashamed, and then resentful that everyone was making such a big deal out of a few childhood pranks.

James was shocked when Dylan Rosier was inducted into the Death Eaters against his will. It was an odd move on Voldemort's part, since James suspected that he could have recruited Evan's son willingly if he had taken the time to persuade the boy by more subtle means, perhaps by playing on the hero worship that Dylan obviously felt for his dead father. James felt a little pity for the boy, although it was difficult to feel too much sympathy for Snape's protege, a Slytherin already trained in the Dark Arts despite his youth, especially when he idolized a Death Eater father who had murdered innocent people. He also resented the fact that Snape was patient and understanding when teaching Dylan Occlumency, while he treated Harry so harshly that he had driven him away from the lessons.

"Now you see what your father's friends are really like," James said grimly to the television, when it showed him an image of the Dark Mark being burned into a screaming Dylan Rosier's arm. But he was too worried about the implications of the incident to have much time to spare either sympathizing with or gloating over Dylan's fate. The forced induction was a sign that Voldemort was growing impatient, which meant that his attacks on Harry would like increase in frequency and severity.

James brooded over the course of the summer as he watched Moony fawn over Snape, and Harry wrestle with his conflicted feelings. To his disgust, Harry's friend Hermione seemed to have taken a liking to Snape; perhaps the girl wasn't as sensible as he had thought she was. After school started, he fumed and worried as Snape continued to pick on Harry in class, and the Death Eaters broke out of Azkaban. And it turned out that what Voldemort had wanted from Dylan Rosier was the secret treasure of the Rosier family, some sort of demonic, blood-drinking roses. James shuddered as he thought of the numerous uses that Voldemort might put the roses to, none of them good.

There were a few happy moments, though. He was proud to see Harry appointed captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team; he had always loved watching Harry's matches in the mirror, and he looked forward to the coming season. But at the same time, it made him sad to see how much Harry had grown over the years. He was nearly a man now; James had missed out on all the things that he and Lily had planned: reading Harry stories and tucking him into bed; teaching him magic and buying his first wand; teaching him to fly and practicing Quidditch with him. He had missed out on Harry's entire childhood.

James turned off the television and found himself restlessly pacing back and forth across the waiting room, like a wild beast locked in a cage. He was so damned tired of sitting here doing nothing, cut off from his loved ones. He could watch Harry and Remus and Sirius, but he could not help them, or even communicate with them. And he missed Lily terribly; he couldn't even watch her on the television, except for scenes from their past. He had tried many times to see her in the present, but all his attempts had failed. The television would show him nearly any person or place in the past or present of the wizarding world, but it seemed that he could not see into whatever afterlife Lily had passed on to.

"Damn it, Death!" James shouted. "I've been cooped up in this room for the last..." He had to pause for a moment to count. "...fifteen years! I can't take it anymore! I need to get out, if only for a little while! Let me see my son in person at least once!" He suddenly felt like he would go mad with confinement and started pounding on the walls. And then suddenly the wall gave way, a section of it swinging open like a secret door, and he fell through it...

...into a lushly appointed parlor, with armchairs and a couch upholstered in velvet, and expensive rugs laid on the polished wooden floor. A silver tea set was laid out on a nearby table. It was the sort of room one would expect to see in the mansion of a wealthy pureblood family, a reception room where guests were brought to rest and receive refreshment while they waited for the Lord or Lady of the Manor to attend them. And the Lord or Lady would always make them wait, even if they arrived at the appointed time, just to demonstrate their power. A token few minutes, if the guest was one that they actually wished to see, or possibly hours, if the person was someone they held in contempt. 

This was, James realized with a start, a waiting room like his own, only with different trappings--Death had said that there were others who had refused to move on, and that they all had their own waiting rooms. This was the waiting room of a high-ranking pureblood. There was no television in the room, of course, but there was a large silver-framed mirror hanging on the wall that seemed to be showing some sort of Death Eater ceremony. A number of robed figures were standing in a circle around a stone altar where a thin, scruffy-looking man was screaming as he was being attacked by the enchanted roses that Voldemort had taken from the Rosier mansion.

A man with curly black hair sat on the couch, his head buried in his hands. He slowly looked up after James fell into the room; his handsome face was streaked with tears. "P-Potter?" Evan Rosier asked incredulously.

"Rosier?" James asked, feeling just as stunned. He knew that Evan Rosier had died before he had, of course, but he had never expected to find Rosier trapped with him in this state of limbo, hanging between the world of the living and the world of the dead. "What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded, then wondered if perhaps Hell was exactly what Rosier was afraid of. He had killed many people as a Death Eater; maybe he was afraid to face whatever punishment he might meet in the afterlife.

But Rosier just gave him another incredulous look, this time with a hint of impatience, as if the answer should be obvious and James was incredibly stupid. "The same as you, I expect, Potter," he said, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "I stayed behind to watch over my son. And Ariane, of course. But mostly to watch over Dylan. Ari is an adult, and she knows how to defend herself. But my son..." His voice dropped to a whisper and turned wistful. "I didn't even know that Ari was pregnant until just before I died. I...I had to stay; I couldn't leave without even seeing his face. And then he was a baby, helpless and vulnerable, raised in exile, disgraced by my crimes. I had to watch over him, to be sure that my enemies did not try to harm him..."

"Your enemies?!" James roared, suddenly furious. He grabbed Rosier by the front of his robes and shook him. "Yes, you've got enemies, you selfish, sadistic bastard! How many innocent people have you and your friends tortured and killed? How many children have you left fatherless or motherless? Why should you get to watch over your son, when you've torn apart so many families? Your son at least still has his mother--mine was left an orphan by that madman you call 'Master'!" Blind with rage, he punched Rosier in the face; Rosier automatically hit him back, and then suddenly they were rolling across the floor, flailing at each other wildly. But strangely, although most of the blows connected, they didn't seem to hurt.

"Knock it off, you idiots!" a female voice shouted, and someone firmly grabbed each of them and tore them apart from each other. James looked up to see Death holding them by the collars of their robes, as if she were holding a couple of kittens by the scruffs of their necks. She glared at them both and gave each of them a good shake. "You're both dead, you morons!" she snapped. "You can't hurt each other."

"Oh," James said sheepishly. "I didn't think of that."

Death rolled her eyes. "Obviously. Both of you have a problem with acting before you think, which is partly why you wound up here in the first place." And then she released them and pushed them away from her with a disgusted sigh.

"That's not fair!" James protested. "I protected my family as best I could; I even went into hiding in a Muggle village. It's not my fault that Voldemort made a sneak attack on our cottage! How was I to know that Peter would betray us?"

"You should've picked your friends more carefully, Potter," Rosier said contemptuously. "I never would have entrusted the safety of my family to that cowardly little rat Pettigrew."

"Why you--" James snarled, balling up his hands into fists again, temporarily forgetting Death's admonishment that it was pointless for them to hit each other.

But Death interrupted quietly, "Your choice of friends didn't turn out to be so great either, now did it, Evan?"

And then all the defiance seemed to rush out of Rosier like a balloon deflating. His shoulders slumped and his head hung down and his eyes filled with despair. Then he lifted his face to meet James's gaze and said bitterly, "Believe me, Potter, there is no worse punishment you could inflict on me than the one that I've already suffered. I wasn't afraid to die, because I thought my comrades would look after Ariane and my son, but I was wrong. None of them, except for Severus, tried to help her when she was accused of being a Death Eater; they were all too busy saving their own skins. None of them so much as sent her a letter, let alone paid her a visit during the years she lived in exile. None of them, again, except for Severus, tried to help Dylan when he was denied admission to Hogwarts. And my Master..." 

His voice cracked with anger and sorrow. "The Master that I revered, that I was willing to give my life for, betrayed me. Instead of offering my son a place of glory, he forced him to join the Death Eaters by threatening to kill Ariane. He used my son as a pawn to steal the family treasure, risked Dylan's life to awaken the roses."

"Don't expect any sympathy from me, Rosier," James said coldly. "How do you think I felt when Voldemort possessed Quirrell and tried to kill Harry? Or when the Basilisk nearly killed him? Or when the Dementors attacked him? Or--"

"I get the picture, Potter," Rosier interrupted. "I don't expect any pity from you. But you misunderstand me. As horrible as it is, the worst part of my godforsaken existence here isn't watching my son face danger and not being able to protect him."

"Then what is?" James asked, still angry, but puzzled as well.

Rosier's eyes filled with tears. "It's watching him grow up without me," he whispered. "It's watching him turn to Severus for help and comfort when he's frightened or hurt. He calls me 'Dad' but it's Severus who has really been a father to him. It's Severus who has protected him when he was in danger, who has held him while he wept. And now even Lupin is closer to my son than I am." He laughed shakily. "Lupin is Snape's lover, so I suppose that he's sort of a what...surrogate mother? Surrogate father? To Dylan."

"Don't mock my friend," James snarled.

"I'm not," Rosier said. "Although I'd no clue that he was a werewolf, or that Severus had secretly been in love with him for years, until I saw it in the mirror." Rosier smiled briefly. "I'd had no idea that snarky little Snape could be such a romantic. No wonder he helped Ari and I to see each other even after her family and Malfoy had forbidden it. Because he had a forbidden love, too. Anyway, believe it or not, I'm grateful to your friend for helping Dylan. And to Severus. But it hurts so much, to know that someone else has taken my place as his father. Dylan loves me, but he doesn't really know me, except as some idealized image he's created in his head. I'm no more real to him than a character in a fairy tale, and I never will be." The tears he had kept in check now spilled out of his eyes and and slid down his cheeks.

James was shocked to see the proud Death Eater weeping in front of him, not even trying to hide his tears, but he said, "Don't expect me to feel sorry for you. If you have to watch your son grow up without you, it's no more than I've gone through, and you deserve far worse for all the crimes that you've committed. If you hate it so much, why don't you move on and face whatever punishment you've earned?"

Rosier laughed mockingly. "And why don't you move on and face whatever glorious reward that you've surely earned by being such a noble, self-sacrificing Gryffindor hero? Or are you afraid that your reward won't be so glorious after all? There's an old legend I read about once; it might have been Egyptian, but I don't really remember. It was something about a god who judges the newly-dead souls entering the afterlife. He would weigh both your good and bad deeds, and if the good outweighed the bad, you got to go to Heaven. But if the bad outweighed the good, then you would go to Hell. I wonder, Potter, how much your schoolboy bullying would weigh against your noble deeds as a member of the Order of the Phoenix? I suppose that they were small sins, but then again, you do realize that it was your fault, yours and Black's, that Severus became a Death Eater?"

"He became a Death Eater because he was a Dark Wizard with a black heart!" James shouted, his voice rising in fury to hide the twinge of guilt that he felt, because suddenly Rosier's voice sounded too much like his conscience.

Rosier shook his head. "It's true that Severus was interested in the Dark Arts, but he was resisting Malfoy's attempts to recruit him--subtly and tactfully to be sure, but he was still holding back. But after Black pulled some prank on him in fifth year--I didn't know until I saw it in the mirror that it was because Black sent him to Lupin's hiding place on the full moon--he went nearly insane with anger. All he cared about was getting revenge on Black--and on you. That was when he decided to join the Death Eaters, although we didn't take the Mark until a couple of years later."

"I had nothing to do with that prank!" James shouted. "I even saved his worthless life!"

"But you were glad that it came between Severus and Lupin, weren't you?" Rosier retorted. "You and Black conspired to keep Lupin away from Severus, telling yourselves that you were 'protecting' him from the evil Slytherin. Even before you found out about their romance, you could see that Lupin was drawn to Severus, that he didn't like the way you and Black bullied and taunted and hexed him. But you did it anyway. And poor little Lupin was so pathetically grateful to have your friendship that he didn't dare cross you. Not that I blame him, I suppose--if you had spilled the beans about his lycanthropy, he would instantly have become an outcast, probably even been expelled."

"I would never have done that to Moony!" James shouted in outrage. "And Snape is not the defenseless victim you make him out to be! Sure, we hexed him a few times, but he gave as good as he got! He hexed me every chance he could!"

"Yes," Rosier said, giving James a contemptuous look, "but he always faced you alone, and you lot always ganged up on him two or three against one. Pretty cowardly for someone who claims to be a brave and noble Gryffindor, don't you think?"

"He took us on alone because he didn't have any friends to help him!" James snarled, his face turning red with anger and shame. "If he's such a good friend of yours, why didn't you help him?"

Rosier shrugged. "Because we weren't very close back then, and because I'm not a noble Gryffindor. In Slytherin, the strong rule over the weak. We didn't help Snape because we were watching to see whether he was going to turn out to be strong or weak. Sometimes we laughed when you lot humiliated him, but we also respected that he never asked for help or cried for mercy. He earned Malfoy's respect by holding his own against you, even outnumbered, and that was one of the reasons that Lucius decided to recruit him into the Death Eaters. It was your constant dueling that allowed Lucius to witness firsthand how skilled Severus was with hexes and curses, and he became determined to win him over to the Dark Lord's side."

James felt sick with horror for a moment. Was it really his fault that Snape had become a Death Eater? Then he shook his head; no, maybe he had been out of line, but Snape was still responsible for his own actions. Being bullied was not justification for becoming a murderer. And despite Rosier's self-righteous words, it wasn't only Slytherins who were bullied. The Slytherins had done plenty of bullying themselves while James was at school, and as far he knew, their victims had not become Death Eaters.

"It's the state of your own soul that you ought to be worried about, not mine!" James told Rosier. "I think I know well enough how your bad deeds will weigh out!"

"I'm not afraid to meet whatever punishment or reward I will face in the next life," Rosier said quietly. "I thought I was doing the right thing, fighting to keep the wizarding world pure, but now I'm not so sure."

"Not so sure?" James echoed incredulously.

Rosier ignored him, continuing, "That werewolf, Lupin, and that Mudblood girl my son is so infatuated with have proven to be better friends to him than my pureblood comrades. If my fate is to be cast into some sort of purgatory, then I deserve it, for leading my best friend into death, and for leaving my son alone and unprotected." He looked up, and James could see no self-pity or fear in his eyes, only a firm resolve and sense of determination. "But I will not leave this world until I know that my son will be safe."

Death, who had been watching silently up until now, placed her hand on James's arm and said, "We should go back now, James."

As they turned to leave, Rosier called out, "Oh, and Potter? Whatever bad blood there is between us, I wish no ill upon your son--if only because I want him to survive and destroy the Dark Lord, since it seems like that is the only way I will ever get revenge on him."

That was a typically selfish Slytherin motivation, James thought to himself as Death pulled him through the doorway in the wall back into his own waiting room. To think about someone only in terms of what they could do for you.

Death motioned with her hand, and the doorway disappeared seamlessly back into the wall again. "That won't happen again," she said firmly. "I'm sorry, James, but you're stuck here until you make the decision to move on."

"Why did it open up in the first place?" James asked curiously.

"Today is Halloween," Death sighed, "when the walls between the world of the living and the world of the dead are thinnest. I've been very busy down on Earth, chasing escaped dead souls, and I wasn't keeping an eye on things here. But as I said, it won't happen again, so don't think that you can escape on next Halloween--providing that you're still here then, which I hope you won't be."

"Halloween," James said, sounding startled. "I've lost track of time here."

"Well, I have a job to do," Death said briskly, then asked hopefully, "Unless you've decided to move on?"

James shook his head. "Not until Voldemort is dead and Harry is safe."

"I didn't think so," Death said, with a sigh of resignation. "Well, see you later, James."

"Wait!" James cried. "Why did I break through into Rosier's room? It was Harry that I was thinking about...Harry and Lily."

Death shrugged. "The barriers preventing you from returning to Earth are much stronger than the barriers between the different waiting rooms, for one thing. Or perhaps you and Evan were unconsciously drawn towards each other because you were both thinking about your sons. You're more alike than you realize, you know. You're both a couple of stubborn gits."

"I'm nothing like that Death Eater!" James protested indignantly, but Death had already vanished. He sighed, and sank down onto the couch. As much as he hated Evan Rosier, at least that unexpected visit had broken up the tedium of his routine. He wondered how long it would be before Harry defeated Voldemort, and James could finally move on and be at peace with Lily. He tried not to think about the other possibility, that Voldemort might kill Harry, and they would be going on into the afterlife together.

But as it turned out, James didn't have to wait much longer, relatively speaking. He anxiously watched the final battle between the Death Eaters and the Order play out on the Hogwarts campus at the end of Harry's sixth year. He watched Harry and his friends and the members of the Order battle the Death Eaters, and he watched Ariane Donner fall in combat, sacrificing herself to save her son--much as Lily had, James realized with a start. And then he saw something that startled him even more: he saw Evan Rosier's ghostly form appear behind a weeping Dylan Rosier. No one on the battlefield seemed to notice him except for the dying Ariane, who smiled and whispered, "Evan."

Evan smiled and held his hand out to Ariane's spirit, which was rising from her dead body. She took his hand and smiled back at him, then they both gazed down at their son, who had flung himself across his mother's body, sobbing hysterically. "I'm sorry, Dylan," Ariane said softly. "I wish I could remain to watch you grow up, but Severus and Remus will take care of you, and I know that they will love you as I would."

Evan bent down to caress Dylan's cheek, and the boy looked up in confusion for a moment, tears still running down his face, as if he had felt the caress but could not see the source of it. "I will always love you, my son," Evan whispered, with a tenderness that James had not believed him capable of. "You are the one truly good thing that has emerged out of all the evil I have committed during my life. Be safe and be happy, Dylan."

And then Death appeared out of nowhere, dressed in her usual tank top and jeans. "Finally ready to go, Evan?" she asked with a smile.

"Who are you?" Ariane started to ask, then she looked into Death's eyes and her face went pale, and she immediately sank down in a deep curtsy. 

Evan dropped to one knee on the ground beside her. "I am ready to enter the next life," he said. "Which I assume is why I was finally able to leave the waiting room. But I beg of thee a boon, Lady Death."

"You do indeed have a silver tongue, Evan Rosier," Death said with a grin. "What is the boon you crave?"

"Let us stay to see the outcome of the battle," Evan said. "I believe it will be over soon enough. I beg of thee, let us stay until we know that our son will be safe or..." His voice faltered for a moment. "Or let us enter the next world together as a family. Though I pray it will not come to that."

"Very well," Death replied, looking around the battlefield, where friend and foe alike were falling. "There's certainly a lot of work here for me to do. I'll gather up the other souls first, then return for you two at the end of the battle. And you'll both come along without an argument this time. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Evan said, bowing his head.

"Agreed," whispered Ariane. "Thank you, Lady Death."

Death laughed merrily. "Oh, I'm no lady, or at least I don't act like one, as I'm sure my stuffy little brother Dream would say!" Then James watched as she flitted across the battlefield, like a butterfly moving from flower to flower, gathering up the souls of the dead. 

Meanwhile, Evan flew across the battlefield with Ariane at his side, moving through the air as easily as a ghost, although that was not precisely what he was. He found the vampiric roses, which Voldemort had brought with him, and shouted, "I give you my first and last command as Lord of the Rosier family: slay the ones who killed my beloved! Kill Bellatrix and Voldemort!"

Bellatrix Lestrange managed to flee out of reach of the rose vines, but they ensnared Voldemort and began drinking his blood as Evan laughed maliciously. Maybe he had repented of the evil he had done, but there was still a little Death Eater left in him, it seemed. Not that James cared, in this instance; Voldemort deserved to suffer for what he had done. He certainly wouldn't mind if the roses killed Voldemort, but he knew that would not happen, since Harry was destined to kill the Dark Lord--or be killed by him.

He turned his attention back to his son, and watched him battle the giants with Ron and Hermione, then watched him chase after Voldemort alone--a brave but foolish move. He listened in shock and horror, as Voldemort revealed that he was Lily's real father and therefore Harry's grandfather; he had raped Lily's mother and then wiped the memory of it from her mind. And he also claimed that the Potters were actually the descendants of Godric Gryffindor, who had secretly had an affair with the wife of the head of the Potter clan.

"LIES!" James screamed at the television, but the sick feeling in his stomach told him that his heart, if not his mind, had accepted the Dark Lord's words as truth. He couldn't help but think that it all made sense now--why Voldemort had hesitated before killing Lily, how easily Godric's sword had come to Harry's hand in the Chamber of Secrets, even Petunia's hostility towards her sister. Had she somehow unconsciously sensed that Lily was not her real sister, or rather, only her half-sister? Was this why she had hated Lily all these years, not because she had feared and envied Lily's magical powers? With horror, James realized that this was why Lily--and Harry, too--were such powerful mages. Because their father and grandfather had been one of the most powerful wizards in the world, second only to Dumbledore. Voldemort's blood flowed through their veins.

He watched numbly as Harry defeated Voldemort--not through combat spells or with Godric's sword, but with the Occlumency that Snape had taught him. And he found the strength to defeat the Dark Lord by embracing the Slytherin part of his soul that Voldemort himself had bequeathed to him. Harry had won, and James was relieved, but he found that he could not summon up a feeling of triumph. Instead, he felt as if he were standing on thin ice that might give way beneath him at any time. Voldemort had thrown his world into chaos with those two brief revelations.

How ironic, James thought with bitter amusement. He did not really feel happy even though his son had defeated Voldemort and won the war, while the Death Eater Evan Rosier seemed to be at peace with himself. The malice that James had seen so often in his eyes while they had still been living enemies was gone, and he and Ariane were smiling sadly but fondly at their son as he wept in Snape's arms, mourning the death of his mother.

"Don't be sad for too long, my son," Ariane murmured. "I am content, for I am with your father now." Unnoticed by her son or the other living people on the battlefield, she brushed a kiss against his cheek. "Goodbye, Dylan."

"Goodbye, Dylan," Evan said. "And Severus...I know you can't hear me, but thank you for watching over my son, for loving him as if he were your own. You were a better friend to me than I was to you." Then he grinned mischievously, staring at James as if he could see him through the television. "I know you're watching this, James. I even thank you for siring the boy who defeated the Master who betrayed me."

James scowled and muttered, "I didn't do it for your sake, Rosier."

Evan clasped Ariane's hand tightly, and they nervously turned to face Death, who was waiting for them patiently. "I told Potter that I wasn't afraid to face whatever punishment or reward that awaited me in the afterlife. I fear it will be the former rather than the latter, but still...we made a bargain, and I will honor it, Lady Death." 

"What will become of us?" Ariane whispered.

"It is forbidden for me to speak of it with those who have not yet passed on," Death replied. "The world that lies beyond this one is different for different people. You will discover what awaits you soon enough."

"At least tell us this much," Ariane begged. "Will we be together?"

"Yes," Death replied. "That much I can promise you. You will be together."

Evan and Ariane relaxed a little. "Then I can endure my fate, be it Heaven or Hell," Evan said. Evan looked back wistfully one last time at his son. "At least Dylan will be safe."

"Take my hand, Evan Rosier, Ariane Donner," Death said softly, and Evan, still holding Ariane's hand, placed his free hand in Death's. A doorway of golden light opened up in front of them, and Death said in a conversational tone, "You know, your friend Severus was a Death Eater, and yet he found redemption of a sort, and was granted a second chance."

"But Severus was still alive when he repented," Evan said.

Death laughed, "Ah, but Evan, death is not an ending, but only a new beginning!" And then she stepped through the doorway, and the three of them vanished into the light.

James turned off the television and lay down on the couch. There was no need to watch further; he knew that Harry was safe and would be all right in Padfoot's care. He wondered why he didn't feel happier. Sometime later--as usual, James wasn't sure exactly how much time had passed--Death appeared in the waiting room.

"Is that bastard Rosier really going to Heaven just because he's sorry now that he was a Death Eater?" James asked. He thought to himself that he ought to feel more of a sense of outrage, but he was still feeling a little numb with shock after finding out that Voldemort was his wife's father.

"I didn't say that he was going to Heaven," Death said mildly. "And if you were watching, then you know that I cannot tell you where he and Ariane have gone."

"But he will find redemption?" James demanded.

"It's possible," Death replied calmly. "That's up to him. And that is all I will say on the matter. Besides, why are you dwelling on Evan Rosier's fate? The war is over, and your son not only survived but is a hero! And he will be able to live with his godfather now. He has many people who will love him and care for him. Isn't it about time that you joined Lily, James?"

He had told Death all those years ago that he was only staying behind to make sure Harry would be safe. There was no reason for him to linger. He should say goodbye to his son, as Evan had, and move on. And yet...things still felt unresolved for him. 

He shook his head and said, "I can't. Not just yet."

"Why not?" Death asked. "Harry is safe."

"The war is over," James said slowly, "but...something just doesn't feel right. Will Harry really be safe? Voldemort died before, but he came back..."

Death smiled, with a fierce and vindictive satisfaction. "You may rest assured that he received a one-way ticket this time, courtesy of yours truly, with a little help--okay, a lot of help--from Harry. He definitely won't be coming back."

James hadn't really thought so; he was just trying to come up with a justification for not moving on. "And Snape...he's still alive, and it seems like he'll be a big part of Moony's life--which means that he'll also be a part of Harry's life."

Death sighed and shook her head. "Do you really think that Snape is a danger to your son? After seeing everything that you saw today, and in all the years that you've been watching him? Or it is that you just can't let go of your childhood grudge against him?"

James evaded the question, continuing, "And all this business about Voldemort being Lily's father...what if he's left behind something in Harry, some sort of curse in his blood or something...?"

"Harry will be fine," Death said, impatiently and a little irritably.

"Can you really promise me that?" James asked. "You told me before that you couldn't see the future."

"I can't promise that no harm will ever befall Harry," Death said reluctantly. "I cannot foresee the future. I cannot make that promise for any human, Muggle or wizard. Life is full of uncertainties and surprises, James. That's what makes it so exciting."

"I just can't go yet, Death," James said helplessly.

"Lily is waiting," Death reminded him.

"I know," James said, hanging his head a little. "Tell her I'm sorry. I'll come to her eventually...just not yet."

Death sighed and smiled at him sadly. "Very well, James. Call me when you're ready." And she vanished.

James morosely watched the television for the next year. Sometimes it seemed to him as if his old friends had gone insane. Remus not only moved in with Snape, but adopted (sort of) two orphaned Slytherins; one was Dylan Rosier and the other was Theodore Nott, whose Death Eater parents had been killed during the final battle. Sirius married, of all people, the demonic Professor Blackmore who had terrorized them as students at Hogwarts! James had never really liked her, even after they both served in the Order of the Phoenix together; her family's Dark reputation had made him leery of her, and it didn't make him feel any better to learn that the rumors about her having demon blood were true and not just some story made up to scare gullible first-years. Besides, she had always seemed to favor Snape for some reason that James couldn't fathom.

It bothered James that Harry still seemed to be disappointed in him, all because of one small (though admittedly ill-considered) prank he had seen in the Pensieve. Merlin's Beard, from the boy's reaction, you would have thought he had committed murder! It broke his heart to see his son confide in Remus about his concerns and doubts--not just about James's actions as a student, but about how James would have reacted to Harry embracing his Slytherin side or the knowledge that Harry was a blood relative of Voldemort. 

Of course, neither Harry nor Remus were aware that this was anything more than a hypothetical question, since they didn't know that James was watching over them. And James felt a twinge of guilt, because it did indeed disturb him to know that his wife and son were related to his worst enemy. He knew that it shouldn't matter; they certainly hadn't chosen to become descendants of Voldemort. It was the Death Eaters who judged people by their bloodlines; James had always believed in judging people by their actions, which was why he had been friends with purebloods, half-bloods, Muggle-born wizards, and even a werewolf. 

But Voldemort was a descendant of Salazar Slytherin, and James couldn't help but wonder if centuries of Dark Magic use had poisoned the Slytherin bloodline. Was it possible that Harry could fall prey to the temptation to use Dark Magic someday? James didn't really believe that his son was capable of such a thing, but still...both Snape and Voldemort had been inside his head. What if they had tampered with his mind, or left behind some subtle, hidden trap that would only be sprung when conditions were right?

Or was he just creating excuses to continuing watching over Harry because he didn't want to leave until his son's faith in him was restored? But James had no idea how to bring that about; he couldn't communicate with Harry, and Remus and Sirius were not much help, either. Although they did try to reassure Harry that his father was a good person in spite of what he had seen in the Pensieve, their assurances sounded a little patronizing to James's ears. James had been immature and prejudiced, they said, but if he had lived, he would have matured into a better person. 

James felt a sudden wrench of pain in his heart, as well as a touch of resentment, as he realized that Remus and Sirius thought of him as a kid--a nice, well-meaning, but immature kid. After all, they were now nearly seventeen years older than he had been when he died. They had grown up and moved on with their lives, while James remained the same, trapped in limbo. He leaned in close to the television and saw his image faintly reflected in the glass of the screen--still youthful, almost boyish. He looked only a little older than his son did now, and James bowed his head and wept for all the years he had missed. 

He hadn't been able to teach his son Quidditch as he had planned, or be there to cheer him on in the stands. He hadn't been able to see Harry off on his first train ride to Hogwarts. He hadn't been able to gently tease Harry about his first crush on Cho Chang, or give him advice about dating, or comfort him through his first breakup. He was useless as a father; he could do nothing but sit here in this godforsaken waiting room and spy on the world of the living like a voyeur. He ought to just get it over with and call for Death to take him to Lily.

But he didn't. He remained, dispiritedly watching the television in the waiting room, as the days passed by and blurred into one another...


	3. The Headmaster's Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore has an announcement to make.

The day after school let out, Dumbledore called Snape and Lupin back for a special conference. They took the Floo directly to the Headmaster's office, and found McGonagall there as well.

"I have an announcement to make," Dumbledore said. "One that I do not wish to make public as yet, but I have called you here because my decision will affect you as well."

"What is it, Albus?" Lupin asked curiously.

"I plan to retire in a year or two," Dumbledore replied. Snape and Lupin stared at him in shock, and the Headmaster smiled at them, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses. "Don't look so surprised, gentleman. I am an old man, after all. Don't you think that I deserve a little rest?"

Snape snorted derisively and said, "Yes, you're so old and feeble that I don't know how you manage, Albus."

Dumbledore just chuckled. "Sarcasm does not become you, Severus."

Lupin gave his mate a sultry smile and purred, "Oh, I think it becomes him very much." Snape's pale face turned a little red, and he shot a murderous glare Lupin's way.

The Headmaster just smiled and continued, "Well, I am over a hundred and fifty years old now, after all. I was planning to retire after I had seen Harry safely finish school, but I thought I would stay on a little longer to see Mr. Zabini get settled into his new position. And we will have to begin thinking about hiring a new Transfiguration teacher, since Minerva will become Headmistress after I leave. It also means that we will need to appoint a new Deputy Headmaster or Headmistress--which brings us to the purpose of this meeting. Will you accept the position of Deputy Headmaster when I retire, Severus?"

Snape's jaw dropped, and he stammered, "I...I...I..." 

He ought to be overjoyed; he was essentially being offered control of the entire school--not right away, of course, but eventually, and he doubted that McGonagall would stay on as long as Dumbledore had. In his youth, it was an opportunity he would have jumped at; the position of Headmaster was about equivalent to the rank of Department Head at the Ministry--certainly something that any pureblood could be proud of. His mother would certainly be overjoyed. Of course, rank did not matter so much to Snape these days, but how many times had Snape chafed at the way that the Headmaster had coddled and favored certain students? If he became Headmaster, he could do things his way, and Slytherin would certainly rise in status, just by virtue of his being from that House, even if he didn't openly favor them.

But...if he became Headmaster, he would no longer teach Potions. That ought to be a relief--no more putting up with insolent brats like Potter and Weasley, or having to deal with cauldron-melting incompetents like Longbottom. But it also meant that he would not be pleasantly surprised when a polite, obedient, and intelligent student like Takeshi Kimura came along. He would not have the joy of teaching a truly gifted student like Dylan, or the frustration of teaching an insufferably clever Gryffindor wench like Granger. He glanced up at the portraits of the former Headmasters hanging on the walls. And it meant that he'd have to put up with the annoying prattle of the portraits, including one of Sirius Black's ancestors.

"I am honored, Headmaster," Snape said slowly, wrestling with his conflicted feelings, "but..."

"But?" asked Dumbledore, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you'd jump at the chance to give Hogwarts a Slytherin Headmaster after two Gryffindors in a row, if you count Minerva."

"It's just that...well..." Snape temporized. "...I've always hated dealing with administrative details...all the paperwork and red tape..."

Lupin grinned. "He means that however much he grumbles about his incompetent students, he loves teaching and doesn't want to give it up."

"That is _not_ what I said!" Snape protested, glaring at his lover. "Don't put words into my mouth, Lupin!"

McGonagall and Dumbledore both laughed. "You will not have time to teach a full schedule of classes," Dumbledore said. "But that doesn't mean that you can't give special tutoring to an exceptionally gifted Potions student."

"Hmm..." Snape said, thinking it over. That might be even better, actually. He would be able to take on a few deserving, hand-picked students without having to deal with all the riffraff. He could leave that frustrating duty to the new Potions Master or Mistress, whomever that might be. But still, he hesitated.

"If you truly don't want the position," Dumbledore said, "I won't force you to take it. But both Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout say that they prefer to stick to teaching. And Branwen feels that she would not be able to give the position the time and commitment it will require, as she will soon have a young child to raise."

"I feel ever so flattered," Snape said sarcastically. "It sounds like you're only offering the position to me because no one else wants it!"

Dumbledore laughed again. "No, Severus, I am offering you the position because I think that you will make a good Headmaster someday."

"I am sure that most of the students would beg to differ," Snape said, with a sardonic little smile.

"You will not be the same kind of Headmaster that I am," Dumbledore conceded with a smile, "but neither will Minerva. Each Headmaster or mistress has their own way of doing things. And I believe that Remus will keep you from terrorizing the students too much."

Lupin grinned, and Snape gave him a sour look. "Why not just give the position to Lupin, then?"

"Because while I might worry about you being too hard on the children, I also worry that Remus would be too soft on them," Dumbledore replied, and Lupin smiled sheepishly. "Together, the two of you balance each other out and make a good team. Besides, I didn't think that you would be able to tolerate working under Remus."

"That's right, Severus, if I became Headmaster, I'd be your boss!" Lupin said mischievously.

Snape visibly shuddered. "Perish the thought! I will have to accept the position, if only to prevent that from occurring!"

Everyone laughed, and Dumbledore said, "Actually, I have something else in mind for Remus. Minerva will have to step down as Head of Gryffindor when she becomes Headmistress, so I would like Remus to take over."

This time both Lupin and Snape stared at the Headmaster in shock. "But...but...that means..." Lupin stuttered.

"That the Head of Gryffindor and the Head of Slytherin would be lovers," Snape finished. "Doesn't that strike you as a bit perverse, Albus?"

"I think it would be a perfectly fitting example of inter-House cooperation and unity," Dumbledore replied cheerfully.

"I won't have to leave the dungeon, will I?" Lupin asked anxiously. "Because I won't accept the position if I can't live with Severus!"

"Of course not, Remus!" Dumbledore said, just a bit impatiently, as if Lupin were a student failing to pick up on a key point in a lecture. "That would totally contradict what I am trying to accomplish! Of course you can continue to live with Severus, as long as you see to the needs of your students. Minerva lives in the teachers' quarters, not Gryffindor Tower itself, after all."

"The Slytherins will be jealous," Snape said. "They're a bit possessive of Lupin."

Lupin smiled lovingly at Snape. "Yes, that does seem to be a Slytherin trait."

"You and Severus have two sons," Dumbledore pointed out. "But you love them both equally, don't you? It's not a matter of favoring one House over another."

"I will continue to spend time with the Slytherins, of course," Lupin said, thinking out loud. "Though I should also start visiting the Gryffindor common room once I am Head. This could be a chance to foster friendship between Gryffindor and Slytherin--maybe we could have nights for combined gatherings, where both Houses could get together to study, or just to talk and relax and play games. Maybe we could even include Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw so they don't feel left out."

"I think you will make a very good Head of Gryffindor, Remus," McGonagall said with a fond and approving smile. "You remind the students by your own example that a Gryffindor should be kind and compassionate as well as brave and loyal."

"So all joking aside, Severus," Dumbledore said in a more serious tone, "are you willing to accept the position of Deputy Headmaster when I retire, with the understanding that you will become Headmaster when Minerva retires? And Remus, are you willing to become Head of Gryffindor?"

"I don't think I'll be around as long as Albus," McGonagall said with a smile, "but I think I'm good for at least another fifteen or twenty years. Perhaps by that time you'll have had your fill of teaching those noisy, insolent brats, as you call them, and be willing to turn over the duties of Potions Master to someone younger...perhaps Mr. Rosier or Miss Granger? Although by then I assume it will be 'Mrs. Rosier' rather than 'Miss Granger'."

"Oh!" Snape exclaimed, looking startled. He hadn't been thinking that far ahead, but the idea had a certain appeal, to pass on his position to his foster son and protege. "Yes...perhaps. Dylan will certainly have attained the rank of Master by then. And Slytherin will need a new Head of House as well as a new Potions Master if...when...I become Headmaster. Of course Mr. Zabini should be a full Professor by then, and perhaps Theodore might be as well..."

"There will be plenty of candidates to choose from," Lupin agreed cheerily. "You've made up your mind, then, Severus?"

Snape nodded. "I would be honored to accept, Headmaster."

"Then I would be delighted to become the next Head of Gryffindor," Lupin said, smiling widely.

"That's wonderful!" Dumbledore said, beaming at them and vigorously shaking first Snape's and then Lupin's hands. 

"Hmmph," said the portrait of former Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black, frowning as he looked down at Snape with a critical eye from his vantage point on the wall. "It was considered scandalous in my day for two men to openly consort with one another. Still...at least he's a Slytherin..."

Snape glared up at the portrait and silently resolved to lock all the portraits in a storage closet when he became Headmaster.

"Although Salazar would be rolling in his grave if he could see the Head of his House sullying his pure blood by consorting with a werewolf..." Phineas continued.

Enough was enough. As far as Snape was concerned, he was the only one who was allowed to insult Lupin. "You will be civil to this particular werewolf, Black," he said coldly.

"Or you'll do what?" sneered Phineas. "The real me is already long dead, and besides, it is forbidden for the current Headmaster to damage or destroy the portraits of his predecessors."

"Ah, but Slytherins are chosen precisely for their inclination and ability to bend the rules in their favor," Snape said in a silky voice, and Phineas began to look a little worried. "Besides, I don't need to harm your portrait. I was thinking of turning it over to your great-great-grandson, Sirius. Wouldn't you like to return to your ancestral home, Phineas Nigellus? I'm sure that your dear grandson will give your portrait the tender loving care that it deserves..."

"To Sirius?" Phineas cried. "That worthless, good-for-nothing little..." He spluttered incoherently with rage, then managed to get control of himself. "You wouldn't dare!"

"Try me," purred Snape with an evil smile, and Phineas abruptly vanished, leaving behind a blank canvas.

"He's gone off to sulk," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "He does that quite often."

"Or more likely, he thought it would be safer to lie low until Severus's temper cools down," McGonagall said, looking very amused.

"You already have the makings of a fine Headmaster, Severus," Dumbledore laughed, patting Snape on the shoulder. "I'm sure that you'll do fine when the time comes! Well, thank you for coming, all of you. Now that everything's been settled, I can enjoy my vacation with an easy heart and no worries."

"Vacation?" Snape asked, then noticed a large, battered-looking trunk sitting in one corner of the room.

"Yes," Dumbledore replied. "A vacation. I haven't had one in half a century. Now that Voldemort is gone and Harry is safe, I thought I would take a little fishing trip with Aberforth."

"But...but...what about the school?" Snape asked, stammering slightly. It wasn't as if the old man didn't deserve a vacation, but Dumbledore rarely left the school unless absolutely necessary, as when he had been forced to leave by Umbridge, and it seemed strange to think of him not being here. Then again, he would be permanently leaving the school soon enough, so Snape supposed that he should start getting used to it.

"Oh, I'm sure Minerva can look after things for a few weeks," Dumbledore assured him. "She will be the new Headmistress in a year or two, after all." He winked at her. "This will be good practice."

"There are no students here during the summer," McGonagall pointed out. "Everything should be quiet and I anticipate no problems." She added, a little tartly, "I think I'm perfectly capable of looking after an empty building on my own."

"I'm sure that Severus didn't mean any offense," Lupin said smoothly, and Snape had the grace to look a little embarrassed. "It's just that Albus has always been here ever since we were students, so it seems a little strange for him to be gone, even for a short vacation."

"It seems strange to me, too," McGonagall admitted, looking mollified. Then, echoing Snape's thoughts, she said, "But we must start getting used to it, I suppose. If any emergencies do come up, I will call on the two of you."

"Of course," Snape said, bowing slightly to make up for his unintended insult. "But I'm sure that everything will be fine."

McGonagall smiled. "I hope so, since I imagine that Lady Selima will be keeping you quite busy this summer. I understand that she wishes to have a party for Lukas and Narcissa when they return from their honeymoon, as well as a party to celebrate Theodore's graduation?"

"Don't remind me!" Snape groaned.

Dumbledore chuckled, then said, "Well, you had better head back to Snape Manor, then, Severus."

"Oh, we're not staying at the Manor right now," Snape replied. "If you need to contact us, we'll be at Lupin's cottage for a couple of weeks."

"Really?" Dumbledore asked, looking surprised. "I hope that you and Selima haven't had a disagreement..."

"It's nothing like that," Snape hastily assured him. "It's all because of Lupin's bloody dog." He turned to glower at his lover.

"Cabal is quite well-behaved," Lupin said earnestly, "but I wanted to take some time and make sure that he's perfectly housebroken and trained before I bring him to Snape Manor."

"You're deluding yourself if you think that my mother is going to allow that animal in the house no matter how well-trained he is," Snape said skeptically.

"Oh, don't worry," Lupin said confidently. "Cabal and I will win her over, I'm sure."

"My money is on Remus," Dumbledore said with a mischievous grin.

Snape said nothing, but privately, he decided that he wouldn't care to bet against Dumbledore. After all, he had also assumed that Lady Selima would never willingly allow a werewolf into her house, either, much less accept him as part of the family.

Lupin grinned, as if he could read Snape's thoughts, and said, "Well, shall we go home and celebrate, future Headmaster Snape?"

"Indeed, future Head of Gryffindor Lupin," Snape said. "However, it might be difficult to explain to the boys why we're having a celebration if the Headmaster wishes to keep this news a secret."

"I think that we can trust in Dylan and Theodore to be discreet," Dumbledore said. "Just make it clear that they are not to tell anyone else about it, not even their friends. If word leaks out, everyone will make a big fuss about it, and I would prefer to retire quietly, with no fanfare."

Snape could well imagine: the Ministry would probably want to have a parade in his honor; Rita Skeeter would want an exclusive interview; and it would be impossible to get the students to concentrate on their studies with all the commotion. "I understand, Headmaster," was all he said.

"Come, let's walk down to Hogsmeade before we go home," Lupin said, linking his arm through Snape's. "Since we're going to celebrate, we can pick up a bottle of wine and something nice for dinner." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "And maybe we could have a quick snog by the lake. That's always been one of my fantasies, you know..."

"LUPIN!" Snape bellowed in outrage as they left the Headmaster's office, and Dumbledore and McGonagall laughed together.

"Yes, those two will do just fine together, Minerva," Dumbledore said, smiling affectionately, and just a little smugly.


	4. Rabastan Lestrange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rabastan Lestrange grows weary of his life in exile.

After his brother and sister-in-law were slain by his Master, Rabastan Lestrange fled without waiting to see the outcome of the battle. Even if Voldemort won, he no longer wanted to serve the Lord who had betrayed him, and if Voldemort fell, he certainly didn't want to linger behind to be arrested by the Aurors. He was able to escape while both sides were occupied with the battle, and fled across the ocean to the United States, hoping that would be enough to keep him safe from both his former Master and the Aurors.

More than a year later, he was living in California, hiding in plain sight, making his living as a "magician"--not as a real wizard, but a Muggle version of one. Muggles were enamored with the idea of magic, it seemed, and there were any number of charlatans with even less magic than Sibyll Trelawney earning money telling fortunes or "reading auras" or selling "healing crystals" or writing books on witchcraft (even though the "spells" in them were laughable). It was easy enough to insinuate himself into their ranks. 

Occasionally he used a small illusion or a bit of glamor to impress a client, but he didn't want to risk attracting the attention of the American equivalent of the Ministry of Magic, so most of the time he didn't use any magic at all. He found that the proper atmosphere (room dimly lit by candles, with incense burning in the background) and attire (gaudy robes embroidered with stars and moons, or sometimes a turban and caftan for a more Eastern flair), along with vague predictions intoned in a dramatic voice would usually suffice to please his customers; their own imaginations did most of the work for him. 

Rabastan knew that the Aurors would never think to look for him here; they would never imagine that he would be so bold as to actually openly work as a wizard (although technically he was more of a fortune-teller). Nor would they ever imagine that a proud pureblood and Death Eater would ever demean himself by living and working among Muggles. So long as he refrained from using much magic and did nothing to draw attention to himself, he would be indistinguishable from any of the other charlatan Muggle mages and fortune tellers.

He told himself that it was a clever idea, but the truth was that it was also borne out of necessity. It was the only type of work in this world that he was really suited for; Rabastan knew little about Muggle technology and would have been unable to hold down a regular Muggle job that would have required him to, say, operate a cash register or computer. During his year of exile, he had learned enough to get by and blend into society--not perfectly, of course, but people didn't seem to think it odd that a fortune teller was a little eccentric. His clients expected him to be mysterious, and the more skeptical Muggles who did not believe in magic just considered him another "nutjob"--which might be a little insulting, but at least they were not likely to draw the Ministry's attention to him. This large Muggle city was full of people who--at least outwardly--were far stranger than Rabastan, so no one paid much heed to him.

So Rabastan survived, and even earned a decent living, enough to rent a small apartment and keep himself fed and clothed, but he hated living in this filthy Muggle city--the City of Angels, its residents called it, but to Rabastan it was like living in hell. He hated its crowded streets and noisy, smelly motor vehicles. He hated that everything was done with technology and not magic. He hated living among the Muggles; they all seemed like a bunch of stupid, mindless sheep, even--no, make that especially--his clients. They were the worst of the lot, treating magic as if it were some sort of amusing parlor trick, unable to comprehend its true power and glory. He wished that he could exterminate them all, as his Master had planned.

The one thing that Muggles were good at was creating a variety of narcotic substances, which were the only things that made his hellish existence tolerable. Actually, many Muggles seemed to hate living in their own world, since so many of them sought escape from it through drugs, as he did.

As the days and weeks and months passed by, Rabastan drifted through life in a dreamlike daze. He was never entirely sober, but neither did he ingest so much drugs and alcohol that he could not function. These days his eyes were as heavily-lidded as Bellatrix's had been, but his clients assumed that was because he was in a state of trance, "communing with the spirits". 

Finally, either lulled into complacency by the drugs, or simply having grown confident that the Aurors had stopped looking for him since no one had yet showed up to apprehend him (or perhaps a combination of both), Rabastan took the risk of venturing into the wizarding section of the city to seek news of his homeland. He used a small glamor to disguise his features, but he had also changed physically over the past year. He had lost a great deal of weight due to stress and the fact that the drugs he took dulled his appetite, and he had grown out his hair and grown a beard. It was likely that even someone who had known him would not have recognized him at first glance.

Even so, he was a little nervous about venturing into a shop to look for a copy of the Daily Prophet, and was not sure if he could even find it here. But it turned out that he didn't have to take the risk; he found a discarded American wizarding newspaper on the street, and it happened to have an article mentioning that their British compatriots were celebrating the anniversary of the defeat of the Death Eaters and You-Know-Who. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, was keeping a low profile attending school at Hogwarts, and declined to be interviewed. The article made no mention of the fact that one Death Eater was still at large, but it was not a very long article. The American wizards had not been directly affected by the war, so the story did not have the same importance that it would have in Britain. But it was enough to tell Rabastan what he needed to know.

Voldemort was dead, and Rabastan had feared his former Master far more than he did the Aurors. Harry Potter was still alive. He didn't know if the traitor Snape was still alive, but Rabastan thought it was likely that he was. Perhaps it was time for him to return home and take revenge on the ones who had forced him into this loathsome life of exile.

In his drug-induced haze, Rabastan forgot that it was his Master who had driven him away, not Snape or Harry Potter. But it didn't really matter, because Rabastan merely wanted someone to hate, someone to vent his rage on. He quietly returned to his home in the Muggle world, and began making plans to catch a flight to London. He didn't dare seek out a legitimate Portkey, so he would have to take a plane. 

He grimaced at the thought of having to ride for several hours in the Muggle contraption. The cost of the ticket would use up all the money he had saved, but it didn't matter. He didn't intend to return, so he didn't need to worry about paying next month's rent. At this point, dying in battle seemed preferable to living as a Muggle for the rest of his life. But he didn't intend to go down without a fight. If he was going to die, he intended to take his enemies with him...


	5. Fathers and Sons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Sirius have a talk, which unbeknownst to them, has a dramatic effect on James.

Hob, the little creature who looked after the Black house now that Kreacher was gone, was delighted when he learned that Sirius and Blackmore were going to have a baby. "Finally!" he cried, an expression of joy filling his small round face. "A baby for Hob to look after!" He had already decorated the nursery in neutral pastel colors, but now he began fretting that he ought to repaint it now that he knew they were having a boy.

"It's fine as it is," Blackmore said, but Sirius whispered, "Shh, don't spoil his fun."

"Perhaps Hob should paint the room blue?" the household spirit mused out loud. "Or perhaps wallpaper would be better?" He brought down some samples of paper that were being stored in the attic.

"Good Lord, that's the same wallpaper I used to have in my room when I was a boy!" Sirius exclaimed, pointing at a light blue piece of paper decorated with a design of broomsticks and Snitches. 

"Yes, I think we should definitely go with that one!" Harry said, grinning.

"Hob will get right to work, then," Hob declared, looking very pleased.

Harry and Sirius helped Hob paper the nursery, although Hob probably could have done well enough on his own without their "help". Putting up the sheets of paper and making sure that they lined up evenly was a lot harder than it looked, and they wound up getting glue all over themselves, but Harry wanted to contribute in some way to the preparations for his little brother, and not just sit back and watch Hob do all the work. 

Besides, he and Sirius had fun working together and laughing at how ridiculous they looked, covered with glue and scraps of paper. Hob didn't seem to mind that they were making a mess; he only smiled and sighed happily, "Ah, how nice it is to have a family in the house!" And with his peculiar form of magic, so similar to a house-elf's, he would even out the places where the sheets of paper did not quite match, and smooth out any bubbles of air or glue trapped beneath the wallpaper.

"Listen, Harry," Sirius said, laying aside the wallpaper and glue for a moment, "I just wanted to say that it means a lot to me that you think of the baby as your brother. It really makes me happy."

Well, that seemed like a perfect opening to the conversation Harry had been wanting to have for some time now. He looked up at his godfather with a solemn expression on his face, and Hob, who seemed to pick up on the sudden shift in mood, quietly slipped out of the room to give them some privacy.

"Of course I think of the baby as my brother," Harry said. "Because...because...you and Professor Blackmore are like my parents now, right?" Harry paused, gazing at Sirius nervously, but his godfather was smiling at him tenderly.

"Of course, Harry," Sirius said softly. "We're all a family now--you, me, Branwen, and the baby. And Hob too, of course."

Harry gathered up his courage and asked, "So, do you think...I mean...that is, if you wouldn't mind...would it be all right if I started calling you 'Dad'?" Sirius's eyes went wide, and Harry hastily added, "I mean, if you think that wouldn't be disrespectful to my real mum and dad. It's not like I'd ever forget about them or anything, I just--"

Sirius mercifully cut off his stammering with a fierce hug. "Yes, Harry," he whispered in a hoarse voice, "that would make me very happy, for you to call me 'Dad'."

Harry hugged him back, filled with a sense of relief, then asked anxiously, "You don't think that my dad--that James--would mind, do you?"

Sirius hesitated for just a second, but a female voice replied firmly, "No, of course James wouldn't mind," and Harry and Sirius turned to see Professor Blackmore standing in the doorway, with Bane perched on her shoulder. "He and Lily chose Sirius as your godfather, after all. They would want him to look after you like family, and I'm sure that they would be glad if they could see how happy you are."

"Of course!" Sirius said confidently, whatever doubts he might have had apparently banished by her words. "Your dad and I were like brothers; he knew that I'd look after you and love you as much as he did if anything happened to him. He would be happy to know that you have a real family now, after living with those rotten Dursleys for so long." 

He hugged Harry again. "I'm sure he'd rather be here to raise you himself, but he'd be glad to know that you're happy. The same way that, God forbid, if anything happened to me and Bran, I would rest easy knowing that Remus would look after the baby." He grimaced comically. "Although that would make Snape the poor kid's stepfather. But the baby would be all right; knowing Moony, he would spoil the kid rotten. I bet he'll love being a grandpa when Hermione and Dylan get around to having kids someday. It's a shame that Theodore and Blaise can't have any; I wonder if they could adopt...?"

"Don't talk like that, Sirius!" Harry cried, his heart skipping a beat at the thought of "anything happening" to his godfather. He had already nearly lost Sirius once, when Bellatrix had almost killed him during the battle at the Ministry of Magic.

"Take it easy, Harry," Sirius said gently, patting him on the back in a reassuring manner. "Don't worry, I plan to be around for a long time. I only meant that we were all like family, your dad and Moony and I, so I think he would be okay with things."

"Okay," Harry said in a subdued voice.

Blackmore gently kissed him on the cheek. "Sirius and I are very glad that you're part of our family now, Harry. I think that James and Lily would be, too."

"Thanks, Prof...er..." Harry's voice trailed off as he realized that he didn't know exactly what to call Professor Blackmore now. He wasn't sure that he was comfortable with the idea of calling her "Mum" yet, but to call her "Professor" seemed overly formal if he was calling Sirius "Dad". 

But Blackmore smiled, seeming to understand his confusion. "I'm sure that it would feel a bit strange to call me 'Mum' or 'Mother'. You can call me by whatever name you feel most comfortable with, Harry, but I'm not really your Professor any longer. Perhaps we could compromise and try 'Branwen' for now?"

"Okay...Branwen," Harry replied, a bit awkwardly. But she smiled warmly at him, which made it a little easier.

"Come now, you two," she scolded briskly, sounding quite motherly--almost like Molly Weasley, as a matter of fact. "It's almost time for lunch; go wash off all that glue before you come down to eat."

Harry and Sirius both grinned, then chorused, "Yes, ma'am!" and hurried off to clean up.

*** 

Branwen saw the hob reappear after Harry and Sirius left. He was smiling contentedly and brushing a tear from one eye; he was a very sentimental little creature who loved nothing more than to see that his family was happy. She gave him a conspiratorial wink, and he smiled at her, a little bashfully, then went back to work wallpapering the nursery.

Branwen descended the staircase, pleased that things had gone so well. There had been an awkward moment, where things could have gone the other way, when Sirius had hesitated over Harry's question of whether James would have minded his son calling someone else "Dad". Of course Sirius loved his friend and wanted to believe the best of him, so a little nudge from Branwen had served to ease his doubts.

But despite what she had told Harry, Branwen was not really so certain that James would not have minded. He had been a kind and goodhearted person for the most part, but he had also sometimes been a little petty and self-centered. It was mostly the callowness of youth, which he might have outgrown had he lived, but the James Potter that Branwen remembered might have been a little hurt and offended at the idea of his son calling someone else "Dad". He had loved Sirius, of course, and he would not have wanted Harry to be unhappy, but she suspected that he might have considered it disloyal of Harry to want another father, as if Sirius were replacing James in Harry's affections.

But Branwen--who came from a long line of Dark Sorcerers and Slytherins--had no problem with bending the truth a little in order to spare Harry's feelings. Because it was Harry who was most important here, not the feelings of a man long dead. Harry had suffered enough in his young life; he deserved to be part of a stable, loving family, to be able to love Sirius wholeheartedly as his father if that what was what he wanted, instead of simply being an orphaned child taken in by a family friend. And Harry would never be able to call Sirius "Dad" if he thought that his real father would disapprove, so Branwen felt no remorse about telling a harmless white lie. It wasn't as if James was around to contradict her, after all.

Besides, maybe she was wrong. Perhaps she was letting her dislike of the way James had treated Severus cloud her judgment. Maybe he really would have been happy for Harry, as Sirius thought. She did believe that Lily, at least, would have been happy for her son, and would not have begrudged him the love of his new family. 

So Branwen forgot her doubts and headed down to the kitchen to fix lunch, humming cheerfully as Bane croaked out an accompaniment, his voice very out of tune, but loud and joyous.

At the time, Branwen had no idea that the issue was anything more than rhetorical, or that James Potter really was watching over his son...

*** 

Meanwhile, in the waiting room, James buried his face in his hands and wept tears of bitterness and despair. His son no longer needed him; Harry had replaced him with another father, one that he perhaps considered more worthy. He told himself that this would never have happened if it hadn't been for that scene from the past that Harry had glimpsed in the Pensieve. If Snape hadn't warped Harry's image of him, Harry would never have thought about seeking a replacement for James.

A very small part of him told himself that he was being selfish, that he should be glad that Harry was happy and had found a loving family to take care of him. But it hurt so much to hear his son call someone else "Dad," even if that person was his own best friend. Of course he had wanted Sirius to care for Harry if anything happened to him, and of course he he wanted Harry to be happy--but he had assumed that Harry would love Sirius like a favorite uncle. 

It had never occurred to him that Harry would want Sirius to actually take the place of his father. Maybe he clung to the title of "Dad" so fiercely because it was all that he had to connect him to Harry. He couldn't talk to or touch his son. He didn't exist for Harry, except as a vague memory and a few photographs, and now he wouldn't even have the small comfort of knowing that he was the only one that Harry thought of as "Dad". In time, Harry would forget about the father he had never known, and think of Sirius as his real father.

James wanted to be angry at someone, but he couldn't bring himself to hate his son or his best friend, so once again he turned his anger on the most convenient target: Snape. It was all Snape's fault; he had turned Harry against James, and even got Moony and Padfoot on his side. Why did everyone forgive Snape but not him? Why were a few childish pranks so bad compared to everything Snape had done as a Death Eater? Snape had stolen everything from James--his son and his best friends. Maybe he was doing it on purpose, as revenge for the pranks James had played on him when they were students.

James knew that he was not really being rational, but he didn't care, allowing himself to be swept away in grief, despair, and anger...


	6. Communing with the Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rabastan attempts to commune with his lost loved ones; Harry visits his ancestral estate.

After a long flight, Rabastan finally reached England, and he headed for one of the many hiding places that the Death Eaters had scattered across the countryside. He cautiously checked to make sure there were no Aurors or traps lying in wait for him, but he detected none. He was reasonably certain that this particular safe house (although it was really a cave rather than an actual house) had not been discovered because it had been known only to himself, Rodolphus, and Bellatrix. 

Once he was safely ensconced in the cave, he ingested some of the drugs he had smuggled with him, anxious to ease the stress of being trapped in a Muggle vehicle for several hours. (He had risked a small spell in order to prevent the drugs from being discovered by the Muggle customs agents--a reasonable risk, since a wizard was not likely to be present in an airport.)

Once he had relaxed sufficiently, Rabastan began considering what his first move should be. Here in this place which had been known only to himself, his brother, and his sister-in-law, Rabastan felt a sudden wave of nostalgia and loneliness wash over him. The three of them had been nearly inseparable since their childhood days at Hogwarts, and he missed Rodolphus and Bellatrix dreadfully, which brought about his sudden decision to attempt to communicate with their spirits.

Despite his job as a fortune-teller, Rabastan actually had no real talent for Divination magic, so he would have to use Necromancy in order to have any real chance of reaching them. It was a particularly dangerous field of magic, but Rabastan's anxiety and stress had caused him to ingest a larger dose of narcotics than he normally would have, which in turn made him reckless.

He went out and ensnared a live rabbit with the use of his magic. With a stick, he traced a circle in the dirt floor of the cave, and etched the runes required for a blood sacrifice and communion with the dead. Then he picked up the helpless rabbit, held it over the circle, and drew a knife across its throat. Its blood spilled into the circle and ran into the shallow channels and grooves Rabastan had etched in the dirt, and the former Death Eater smiled in satisfaction. 

A human sacrifice would have been better, of course, but this would do. He cast aside the rabbit's corpse, then nicked his palm with the knife, allowing a few drops of his own blood to fall into the circle. He needed some way to call Rodolphus and Bellatrix to him, and the bond of blood he shared with his brother should--in theory--serve as a link to draw his brother's spirit to him. Presumably Bellatrix's spirit should follow her husband's; he could not imagine them being separated even in death.

He began chanting an incantation, calling out to the world of the dead, trying to summon his brother's spirit to him. The drugs he had taken allowed him to slip deeply into trance, and he reached out with his mind, searching for some sign of Rodolphus or Bellatrix. Opening his mind that way made him vulnerable to attack from unfriendly spirits, but Rabastan did not remember the warning he had read long ago in the spell book he had learned the incantation from, and even if he had, in his current drugged state, he would not have cared.

"Come to me, Rodolphus," Rabastan whispered. "Come to me, Bella. Come to me, and together we will seek revenge on those who betrayed us, like that cowardly, double-crossing Snape..."

Rabastan searched, with increasing desperation and frustration, but found no trace of his brother or sister-in-law. He did not know it, but they were beyond his reach, as Death had long ago conducted them into the afterlife. As he continued searching, he suddenly touched a mind filled with despair and anger and a desire for revenge. It was not his brother, but it was someone familiar to him...

*** 

In the waiting room, as James wept on the couch, he thought he heard someone whisper, as if overhearing a snippet of someone else's conversation, "...seek revenge on those who betrayed us, like that cowardly, double-crossing Snape..."

"Snape," James hissed, anger and hatred boiling over and temporarily wiping away any trace of logic or rationality in his mind. "He stole my son from me, turned my friends against me! This is all his fault, that slimy, sneaky little git!"

He felt a touch of surprise from the unseen whisperer, as if that person had suddenly become aware of his presence. "Do you wish revenge on Snape?" the voice whispered.

The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but James could not quite place it. "Yes!" he instinctively cried. "I want revenge on him! He lived while I died, and he poisoned my son's mind against me! I want him to be exposed as the evil bastard he truly is! Only then will my son be safe. Only then will Harry love me again, and then I can finally be at peace and go on to meet Lily."

"Then I will help you, James," the voice whispered, sounding extremely pleased and satisfied.

*** 

Rabastan cackled with glee. He had not found his brother and sister-in-law, but he had found James Potter's spirit hovering between the world of the living and the world of the dead, apparently unable to move on because of its desire for revenge. A brilliant plan formed in his mind: he would bind Potter's spirit to his will and use it to destroy Snape, thereby gaining revenge on two enemies at the same time! What a delicious revenge that would be, not only to slay the traitor Snape, but to command Potter's spirit as his servant, to see the proud Gryffindor who had so vexed the Dark Lord humbled and enslaved! But first he would need some sort of physical connection to summon and control Potter, a bit of hair or blood or bone...then he smiled, as he realized he knew exactly where he could obtain such a thing, and he instantly Disapparated.

If Rabastan had been sober, he would never have even contemplated going through with such a plan. Raising a spirit was a particularly dangerous process, and even more so when the spirit was a hostile one. Attempting to raise and control the spirit of a sworn enemy, especially one who had been a powerful wizard in life, was sheer madness. But Rabastan had not been completely sober in over a year, and in his present drug-induced euphoria, he did not pause to consider the risks.

*** 

The next morning, Harry was having breakfast with his family, grinning widely and marveling over how happy such a simple thing made him. It was completely different from his life at the Dursley house, where he had been the one cooking and serving breakfast to his aunt and uncle and cousin, and had never been welcome to sit down and eat at the table with them. The time he had spent at the Weasley house had been nice, of course, but this was different because Sirius and the Professor...Dad and Branwen...were his family in a way that the Weasleys were not.

"I just got a letter from Narcissa," Sirius announced, between bites of eggs and pancakes.

"How is she enjoying her honeymoon?" Branwen asked.

Sirius smiled. "She says that she's having a wonderful time and that Paris is a very romantic city, but she's eager to come home and have the whole family together again."

"I hope that Draco's all right on his own," Branwen said, frowning a little. "I told Narcissa that he could stay with us while she and Lukas were gone, but he was quite indignant and said that he was too old to need a baby-sitter."

"Well, he is a legal adult now, even if he doesn't always act like it," Sirius chuckled. "But he's already started his apprenticeship with Cassidy, and Cass says that Draco has been working hard and staying out of trouble. He spends most of his time at the workshop, and Cassidy's wife usually insists that he have dinner with them--she worries about a teenage boy being on his own, too, I guess. She says that she wants to make sure that he gets a decent meal and doesn't just eat junk food and takeout while his Mum is gone. So anyway, it sounds like he's doing fine."

"That's good, then," Branwen said, with a smile of relief.

"Lukas intends to open up the Diggory mansion when they get back," Sirius continued. "His grandparents had closed it up years ago, not long after his father died. Narcissa is excited about opening it up and restoring the mansion to its former glory, but Lukas is already fussing and fretting over her, not wanting her to work too hard for fear of harming the baby."

Branwen laughed. "I imagine that a werewolf would be a very protective husband and father."

Harry had been listening in silence up until now, content just to be in the presence of his family, but he was suddenly curious about something. "Siri...uh, I mean, Dad?" Harry asked hesitantly. He was glad that he could call his godfather "Dad" now, but it still felt a bit strange.

"Yes, Harry?" Sirius asked, smiling at him warmly, looking delighted to be called "Dad," which set Harry at ease.

"I was just wondering," Harry said. "This is the Black mansion, and there's a Diggory Manor and a Snape Manor and a Malfoy Manor..."

"Yes," Sirius replied, looking curious about where the conversation might be heading.

"Well, from what I've heard, the Potters were an old pureblood family, right?" Harry asked. "And they seemed to be wealthy--I mean, there's a lot of money in my Gringotts account." Sirius nodded and Harry continued, "So is there a Potter Manor or a Potter estate?" He hastily added, "Not that I want to own a mansion or anything like that, but I was just wondering where my parents lived before they went to Godric's Hollow, if there was a family home that would have more pictures and things that belonged to them, or maybe some kind of family history. Hermione says that Dylan told her that Theodore has been studying all the diaries and records kept by the previous Snape Lords. I was just wondering if my family had something like that."

Sirius and Branwen exchanged a solemn look. "Voldemort wiped out the entire Potter clan except for you, Harry," Sirius said sadly. "Most of their properties were eventually sold, and the money put into trust for you, but the main Potter estate, where your ancestral home stood, was never sold. But..."

His voice trailed off, and Branwen finished in a gentle voice, "But Voldemort leveled the mansion in the attack that killed your father's parents. The land it stood on is still there, but there is nothing left of the mansion but rubble. I'm sorry, Harry."

"Oh," Harry said, feeling disappointed. But Sirius and Branwen looked worried, so he said, "That's okay. At least I have the wedding pictures that Hagrid gave me. And all the stories that Siri..that Dad and Remus have told me about my mum and dad."

"Perhaps," Branwen said hesitantly, "we could take you to visit your parents' graves?"

"They have graves?" Harry asked, startled. "I mean--I guess they must, but I never thought about it. No one ever mentioned it to me. I thought maybe...maybe there was nothing left of them to bury..."

"Your parents are buried on the Potter lands," Branwen said gently. "There is a small cemetary there, just for the family. Most of the old, wealthy pureblood families have a family crypt, but the Potters preferred to be buried under the open sky."

"James wouldn't have liked been locked up in a cold, stone crypt," Sirius said quietly.

"Graves and funerals are for the living, not the dead," Branwen replied kindly, reaching out to lay her hand over her husband's. "James's and Lily's spirits do not lie in a crypt or beneath the earth. A grave is a means by which we may show honor to the loved ones we have lost, and find some comfort in having a connection to them."

"I never really got a chance to say goodbye to them," Sirius sighed. "I was in Azkaban when the funeral was held."

"We should have offered to take you there before," Branwen said apologetically to Harry. "It wasn't really safe for you to travel before, while the war was still going on, but now..."

"It's okay," Harry assured her. "But I would like to go there now." He smiled at Sirius. "We can both say goodbye to them properly, Dad, and let them know that we're doing okay now."

Sirius smiled tenderly at him. "Yes, I would like that, too. The grounds on the Potter lands are very nice, as I recall from my visits. We could pick some wildflowers and lay them on James's and Lily's graves. And I can show you some of the places where James and I used to play when we were boys." 

"I'd like that," Harry said.

Sirius's expression brightened. "Yes, let's do that, then. Maybe we could pack a picnic lunch..."

Hob appeared out of nowhere and eagerly announced, "Hob will prepare a lunch right away!" And then he vanished again, presumably to the kitchen to prepare the food.

Harry smiled and finished his breakfast. Perhaps it was a little odd to be taking a picnic on a trip to a graveyard, but somehow it didn't seem disrespectful, and he didn't think that his parents would mind. It didn't seem so much like a morbid visit to a grave, but rather like he was visiting family. And Sirius was smiling nostalgically, so it seemed like he thought so, too. Harry was filled with love for his godfather then, and for Branwen too, for understanding him so well--for being willing to be parents to him, while still understanding that he needed to feel close to his biological parents, too. 

He understood now what Dylan had meant when he said that he thought of Snape and Lupin as his parents, while still loving his mother and father as much as he always had. And Harry thought to himself that maybe Snape wasn't so bad after all, if he could make someone feel so loved. Then Harry silently chuckled to himself and thought, _Man, I'm really getting mushy if I'm getting all sentimental over Snape!_

So after breakfast was over, Hob handed them a picnic basket, and they set off to visit the Potter estate. Harry had his Apparation license, but he couldn't Apparate to a place he had never seen before, and there was no Floo to connect to since the mansion had been destroyed. But they weren't in a hurry, so Branwen suggested that they take the scenic route. Buckbeak needed some exercise, so Harry and Sirius rode the Hippogriff together, while Branwen rode a broomstick, since she said that she didn't want to overload poor Buckbeak.

"You don't weigh that much, but that fat raven of yours might be a little too much for Buckbeak to carry," Sirius joked, and Bane cawed indignantly and snapped at him, hard enough to have taken a good-sized chunk out of Sirius's ear if he hadn't moved away in time.

When they reached the Potter estate, they turned Buckbeak loose to let him roam around, and he happily ran off chasing some rabbits. No one had tended the estate since James and Lily had gone into hiding, so it was overgrown with weeds and tall grass and wildflowers. In a way, that was a blessing, since it hid the ruins of the Potter mansion, the tall grass all but obscuring the the rubble of the stone foundation, which was all that remained of the house, except for a few pieces of weathered and rotting lumber here and there.

Sirius wept a little, and Branwen slipped an arm around his waist, and he put his arm around her, drawing her closer. Even Bane, who seemed to view Sirius as a rival for his mistress's affection, regarded Sirius with a sympathetic look, and made no move to snap or peck at him as he normally would have. Harry felt a little sad to see how little remained of his family's ancestral home, but he had never lived here and felt no real connection to the place, and he felt more badly for Sirius than he did for himself. He reached out to place a hand on his godfather's shoulder.

Sirius smiled and brushed the tears from his eyes. "I'm okay, Harry," he said. "It's just hard to see the place like this. I spent so much time with the Potters that it was almost like a second home to me--certainly more of a home than my parents' house." He slipped his free arm around Harry and gave him a little hug, holding both his wife and his godson close to him for a moment. "At least until you guys came to live with me. It seems much more homey now." 

They continued walking across the grounds, and Sirius smiled a little wistfully, but looked much less melancholy. "It's kind of pretty, actually, in a wild, untamed sort of way," Sirius said, gesturing at the patches of wildflowers growing amid the remains of the mansion. "It's not a bad tribute to a fallen friend. It suits James's personality more than mowed lawns and neatly arranged flower beds."

"Why don't we gather some of these flowers, then, to lay on your parents' graves?" Branwen suggested gently to Harry. He and Sirius nodded, so they slowly walked together across the grounds, and as they picked the flowers, Sirius pointed out spots where he and James used to play.

"We used to climb that tree," Sirius said. "James fell out of it and broke his arm when we were twelve. His mum had hysterics, but that didn't stop him from climbing it again as soon as his arm was healed." Sirius grinned. "Poor Mrs. Potter; he gave his mum so much grief. He set their Christmas tree on fire when he was six years old. I didn't know him back then, so I'm still not exactly sure how he managed it, but from then on the Potters used electric lights on the tree instead of candles. Oh, and that rock over there--" 

Sirius pointed at a small boulder. "James and I used to play at being Merlin and King Arthur, and pretend that was the stone that held Excalibur. We used to fight over who got to be Arthur. Most wizard children would rather be Merlin, but we thought it was more fun to fight with a sword, although 'Excalibur' was just a wooden sword that Mr. Potter made for us. It did look very nice, though--the 'blade' was painted silver and the hilt gold." 

"It sounds like you guys had a lot of fun," Harry said with a smile.

"Oh, we did!" Sirius agreed. "We had some great times here." Then he patted Harry on the shoulder and laughed, "Guess it must run in the family; you've turned out to be a fine swordsman yourself!"

"I liked the swordfighting lessons in Physical Defense class," Harry said, then admitted honestly, "but Dietrich is better than I am. He's been taking private lessons ever since he was a kid, though."

"Ah, but you got to wield Godric Gryffindor's sword," Sirius said proudly. "Not many people can say that!"

"Your father would be very proud of you, dear," Branwen said, smiling affectionately at Harry.

Harry smiled, pleased at the idea of his father being proud of him. Although they had come to visit his parents' graves, he felt happy and content rather than sad. He finally felt as if he and Sirius and Branwen were a real family, and at the same time, walking through the estate and listening to Sirius's stories made Harry feel close to James. He could almost picture the two mischievous boys climbing trees and playing with a wooden sword, and he was suddenly filled with love for both his real parents and his new family. And the pain and uneasiness he had felt ever since seeing Snape's memory of James in the Pensieve finally receded. He felt as if he were seeing the better, kinder side of James through Sirius's eyes. He still didn't condone what his father had done, of course, but it helped to balance things out a little in his mind. He felt able to love his father wholeheartedly again, while at the same time resolving not to make the same mistakes that James had.

They strolled leisurely, picking flowers and listening to Sirius reminisce, until they reached the family cemetary. Like everything else, it was overgrown with tall grass, so at first they didn't notice anything amiss. "Maybe we ought to cut the grass and tidy up the place a bit while we're here," Sirius murmured. There was a picket fence surrounding the cemetary that had been white at one time, although most of the paint had peeled off over the years, and was in a state of disrepair. "It's okay for the rest of the grounds to be overgrown, but it seems disrespectful to let weeds grow over the Potters' graves."

"The purpose of a cemetary and other such monuments are more to give comfort to the living," Branwen reminded him gently. "But yes, we can tend their graves."

"That would give me some comfort," Sirius said quietly.

"Where are my parents' graves?" Harry asked. 

"I didn't attend the funeral, either," Branwen said. "I was already...ah...in hiding at the time, after the Death Eaters tried to kill me. But judging by the dates on these headstones, it seems like they've been put up in chronological order. So if the older graves are here, the more recent ones should be over this way...oh!"

She cried out in horror, and Harry wondered what could so unnerve his formidable Professor and stepmother. He glanced over to where she was looking, and saw a pile of dirt and a gaping hole in front of a headstone, and next to it, an open coffin...

"Don't look, Harry!" Sirius cried, grabbing Harry and hugging him tightly, firmly pressing Harry's head against his chest and holding him in place. 

"Sirius!" Harry protested, struggling in his godfather's embrace. "What's happened? Has someone dug up my parents' graves?!"

"Don't!" Sirius sobbed, keeping a firm grip on Harry and refusing to release him. "Don't, Harry! You don't want to see your father like that!" And then Harry stopped struggling, because he could feel Sirius's body shaking as he wept, and he held Sirius tightly, trying to comfort his godfather even as Sirius was trying to protect him.

"Stay back, you two," Branwen ordered in a voice that trembled just slightly, and Harry heard more than saw her move forward. Harry and Sirius obeyed, still clinging to each other, both of them in too much shock to argue. Not that Harry wanted to look into that coffin, but it didn't seem right to let Branwen do it alone. His mind kept conjuring up visions of his father's decomposing body that were probably more horrible than the reality. However, after a few minutes, Branwen came over, looking remarkably calm under the circumstances, and put her arms around them and gently ushered them away from the grave.

"Come away from here," she murmured. "There's nothing you can do right now." And they let her lead them away, back to the entrance of the cemetary. 

"Wh...what happened?" Harry stammered, as he and Sirius tried to regain control of themselves. 

"Someone has dug up James's grave," Branwen said grimly. "Although Lily's grave seems to be intact."

Sirius was still trembling, but now his eyes were filled with fury as well as sorrow and horror. "Someone has desecrated James's grave--a Death Eater? But Lestrange is the only one still at large--why come out of hiding and risk capture now? Maybe it was a Death Eater sympathizer?"

"I'm not sure who did it or why," Branwen replied, "although it seems logical that whoever is responsible probably has some kind of tie to the Death Eaters. We'll have to call in the Aurors."

"Well, of course!" Sirius said. "We've got to track down the person who did this!"

Branwen gave him a grave and worried look. "I think this is more than petty revenge by some Death Eater sympathizer brooding over the Dark Lord's fall. Black magic might be involved."

"The body?" Sirius whispered, a look of dread and horror in his eyes.

"There is a finger missing from James's left hand," Branwen replied. 

Harry felt sick, and had to fight back a surge of bile rising in his throat. "Cut off?" he whispered. "Like Wormtail?"

Branwen nodded. "Only James could not have cut it off himself, obviously."

"What would someone want with my father's finger?" Harry asked, but then he recalled the spell that Voldemort had used to regain his body. One of the ingredients had been a bone from his father. Harry still wasn't sure exactly what use James's finger might be put to, but he knew that it couldn't possibly be anything good.

"I don't know," Branwen replied quietly. "But there are many evil spells that can make use of the blood or bone or flesh of a victim. James is beyond harm, of course, but someone might be trying to create some sort of spell or potion to use against you, Harry. It's called sympathetic magic; a voodoo doll is a crude example of that. There is a blood connection between you and your father, so it is possible for a Dark Wizard to use your father's flesh and bone to invoke some sort of harmful spell against you. It would be very difficult, but it can be done if the wizard is skilled and powerful enough."

Sirius turned pale and said, "Take Harry back to Grimmauld Place, Bran! Call the Aurors from there; I'll wait for them here with Buckbeak."

"No!" Harry protested. "You can't stay here alone! What if whoever did this is still around?"

"I think they most likely left after they got what they came for," Branwen said. "But the grave does not seem to have been open for long; the dirt still looks freshly-turned. I think it must have happened no more than a day or two ago, at most."

"I don't care," Sirius said sharply. "I want you to get Harry someplace safe until we know what's going on!"

"But what about you?" Harry demanded. "If it's not safe for me to stay here, it's not safe for you, either!"

"I'll be fine; I can take care of myself," Sirius said. "Buckbeak is too large for me to Apparate with, so I'll have to go home the long way. Besides, I want to watch over things until the Aurors come, and make sure no one tampers with the grave further. There's a slight possibility that we interrupted the culprit and that he might come back."

"But--" Harry started to argue.

"Bran, just get him out of here!" Sirius said impatiently, and took out his wand, his face stubborn and determined. "I'll Stupefy you if I have to, Harry."

"Bane, stay with Sirius and watch over him," Branwen said, and the bird immediately flew over to land on Sirius's shoulder without a single squawk of protest. "Harry, let's Apparate back home." As he opened his mouth to argue further, she said quietly, "To ease your father's mind. Both of your fathers would want you to be safe. And besides, I need a Floo or communication mirror to contact the Aurors. The sooner we go home, the sooner I can get the Aurors out here so that Sirius won't be alone."

So Harry reluctantly agreed to go home with her, if only so that they could bring back reinforcements. Branwen immediately contacted the Ministry, and they sent a team of Aurors, including Tonks and Kingsley, over to the Potter estate. Branwen refused to let Harry join them, though, despite his protests that he was soon to become an Auror-in-training himself. 

"Not until we know what we are facing," she said implacably. She remained at the house with Harry, "In case of trouble," she said, but Harry thought that she was probably making sure he didn't sneak back to the estate as much as she was staying to protect him. He resented being treated like a child in need of protection when he had already fought and defeated Voldemort--and he had just graduated; it wasn't as if he were still a kid! Then he smiled ruefully to himself; he had wanted Sirius and Branwen to regard him as a son, after all, so he supposed that he couldn't really blame them for acting like overprotective parents!

"It isn't that I think you are incapable of defending yourself, Harry," Branwen said patiently as Harry paced back and forth across the drawing room. "You have proven yourself to be quite adept at Defensive magic. But as you are most likely the target of powerful Dark Magic, it would be foolish to expose yourself to risk until we know more about what we are dealing with. If we can get a more specific idea of what the grave robber intends to do with the finger, then we can decide what measures we need to take to protect you--the way you learned Occlumency to protect you from Voldemort's Legilimency, for example. There are also certain protective charms and shield spells that might be helpful against Dark Magic. But to rush into danger, unarmed and unprepared, might well get you killed." 

She glared at him sternly. "Such as the time you and your friends decided to confront the Death Eaters at the Ministry by yourselves at the end of your fifth year. If you wish to become an Auror, Mr. Potter, you must learn to act before you think."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry mumbled, flushing as he recalled how he had put himself and his friends in danger, and nearly gotten Sirius killed, because he had rushed into Voldemort's trap. "I'm sorry, Prof...Branwen," Harry said contritely. "I thought that you guys were just treating me like a kid, but what you say makes sense. I need to be prepared, instead of just rushing out to look for the guy who desecrated my father's grave. To be honest, I'm not really sure where I would look, besides the estate grounds."

Branwen smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "Well, I must admit, there is a little protectiveness involved, too. No parent likes to see his or her child being put in harm's way, even if that child is an adult, and no longer really a child. I think that Sirius will argue vehmently about you getting involved with this investigation."

"But I can't just sit back and do nothing!" Harry argued. "Not when someone dug up my father's grave and...and...cut a piece off his body!" He still wanted to throw up when he thought about it.

"I understand," Branwen said. "But if you wish to be treated as an adult, you can no longer act like an impulsive schoolboy, Harry. I promise to keep you informed on the progress of the investigation, and I will speak to Tonks and Kingsley about the possibility of you taking on a more active role, providing that you will be sufficiently protected. But any role you take in the investigation will be under the supervision of the Aurors, and you will follow their orders--including, if necessary, their decision to pull you out if the danger becomes too great. There will be no sneaking around, no going off on your own as you have done in the past. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Harry replied. He wanted to argue that most of the times he had gone off on his own were because the adults in charge had refused to listen to him, but he decided that it would sound too much like he was making excuses. And he had to admit that he had done some really dumb and foolish things--like going off to the Ministry on his own, for example. He wanted to prove to Branwen that he could behave responsibly, and it sounded like people were actually going to listen to what he had to say and let him know what was going on, instead of just brushing him off and keeping him in the dark for his own safety.

"Is there something we can do to prepare now?" Harry asked. "I know that I can't leave the house, but I don't want to just sit around and do nothing while we wait."

"That's a good idea, Harry," Branwen said approvingly. They spent some time going over the defensive spells and counter-curses that Harry had already learned, and Branwen began teaching him a few more advanced spells that they had never covered in class.

"You're doing well, Harry," Branwen said. "However, I think that we need something more than spell-casting. Most of these spells require a conscious effort to invoke and maintain, which won't help you if you're attacked before you have time to cast a counter-curse, and you won't be able to maintain them while you're sleeping. What we need to do is enspell an item that you wear or carry with you."

"A protective charm?" Harry asked, his interest piqued, despite his worry and anger over the desecration of his father's grave. "Like the bracelets we wove in Professor Chizuru's class?"

"Yes, something like that," Branwen replied with a smile. "But something a little more powerful than the simple charms Chizuru taught you to make. Permanently enchanting an item can be a long and complicated procedure. Sometimes the item must be steeped in a special potion, or made of a special type of material. Certain types of stones and metals are more conducive to holding certain enchantments than others. And as Chizuru taught you, spells can even be woven into cloth, although I do not have that particular talent myself. But for now...perhaps simple would be best, after all." 

She had a small casket of gemstones that she used in Summoning spells, and she fetched a piece of topaz from it. "We don't know exactly what type of magic we're facing, and topaz is commonly used in protective charms against hostile magic." Harry watched, fascinated, as she etched a rune of protection into the surface of the gem, cast several protective spells on it, then cast a final spell to bind the previous spells into the topaz and hold them there. Then she attached it to a silver chain and hung it around Harry's neck.

"Here," she said. "Keep this on at all times, even when you bathe and sleep. It will act as a general sort of protective charm, but it isn't all-powerful. It will deflect most curses and hexes, but a strong enough spell will break the enchantment and cause it to shatter. Still, it should at least buy you some time to cast a defensive spell of your own."

"Thank you, Branwen," Harry said, feeling both grateful and nervous as he reached up to touch the topaz pendant hanging from his neck. "Do you really think it's necessary?"

"I hope not, dear," she replied. "But I would prefer to be safe rather than sorry."

Harry sighed. He knew that she was right, but he wondered if he was ever truly going to feel safe. He had thought that all his problems would have ended with Voldemort's death, but the R.A. and the Auror Williamson and Amos Diggory been stirring up fear and discord both among the Hogwarts students and the wizarding world at large all year. And now that they had been exposed and things were finally beginning to return to normal, this had to come up. Harry was tired of living in fear and always having to be cautious. He didn't want to spend another summer imprisoned in Grimmauld Place for his own safety.

Sirius and Buckbeak returned shortly after Branwen had finished enchanting the topaz charm. "We thoroughly searched the grounds, but the culprit was long gone," Sirius said, looking worried and unhappy. "The Aurors found no traces of Dark Magic near the grave or anywhere else on the grounds, but people don't generally rob graves and steal body parts for benevolent purposes. I'm sure that they intend to use James's finger for some sort of Dark spell or ritual."

"You didn't find out anything more specific?" Branwen asked, looking dismayed.

Sirius shook his head. "Whoever it was didn't leave any clues behind. Since it's likely that Lestrange or a Death Eater sympathizer might be involved, the Aurors will start checking the Death Eaters' old haunts, and they'll also check the potion shops in Knockturn Alley. If the culprit is performing some sort of Dark ritual, it's likely that they'll need other ingredients that can't be bought legally without a license. I think it's a good thing now that Dumbledore and I never released the Fidelius Charm on this place. There was really no reason to keep it in place after Voldemort died, but on the other hand, all the people that we trusted already had permission to come and go as they pleased, so I didn't see any harm in leaving things as they were. Maybe I inherited a little of my old man's paranoia, but I guess that was a good thing. I'm sorry, Harry, but I'm afraid that you're housebound for now."

"But I want to be involved with the investigation," Harry said.

"I told Harry that we would keep him informed, and that we will consider allowing him to become more actively involved, providing that the danger is not too great," Branwen said. "On the condition that he behaves responsibly and follows the orders of the Aurors in charge."

Sirius nodded, a little reluctantly. "That's reasonable. I think some of the problems that arose in the past stemmed from Harry being kept in the dark. I told Dumbledore that was a bad idea, but my opinion didn't rate too high with him at the time, and I suppose I can't completely blame him. I was behaving pretty irresponsibly back then."

"Being cooped up in this house would drive anyone a little crazy," Harry said loyally.

"That's still no excuse," Sirius said, but he smiled at his godson. "But this time, I promise that you'll be kept informed. Tonks and Kingsley have been put in charge of the investigation, and they'll report to us as soon as they find out something. As for being involved with the investigation...I want you to stay put for now, Harry, at least until we learn a little more about the situation. There's no point in jumping into things blindly, and right now, Tonks and Kingsley can handle the investigation more efficiently on their own without our help. We can decide what to do next when they report back to us." 

He sighed, running his hand through his hair in a distracted manner. "Your deciding to become an Auror sounded like a great idea at the time, but I can see that it's going to give me a lot of gray hairs in the future. Keeping you locked up in the house is beginning to sound like a good idea." Harry opened his mouth to protest, and Sirius smiled and added, "Still, I suppose I'd better get used to it. But let's not take any unnecessary risks, shall we?"

"Yes, Siri--yes, Dad," Harry replied. He didn't want to be locked up in the house all summer, but he did find Sirius's concern for him touching. It made him feel like they really were father and son. "But I'm scheduled to begin Auror training in a couple of weeks. What will we do if they haven't caught the culprit by then?"

Sirius sighed again. "Well, we'll talk it over with Kingsley and Tonks later. Maybe they can keep you working in the Ministry office for awhile..." He smiled at the look on Harry's face and said, "And yes, I know that you don't want to be stuck working behind a desk in an office, but every job has its share of paperwork, as I know all too well. But let's cross that bridge when we come to it. It's possible that the Aurors will be able to wrap up this case quickly."

Harry nodded in reluctant agreement, but somehow he had the feeling that things wouldn't be that simple...


	7. A Visit from an Old Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape, Lupin, and the boys enjoy a summer vacation that starts off as quiet and uneventful, but does not remain so for long.

Lupin, Snape, and the boys moved back into Lupin's little cottage after school let out. Both the house and garden had been left untended all year, and required some work to set things back in order. The task was made slightly more difficult by Cabal, who got underfoot as he investigated his new home, sniffing curiously, then sneezing as a cleaning spell stirred up a cloud of dust.

"Will someone take that mutt outside?" Snape asked irritably.

"C'mon, boy," Dylan said. "Let's go work in the garden." So Dylan and Theodore took Cabal outside with them, and when they began digging up weeds in the garden, Cabal eagerly joined in.

Theodore laughed. "You know, he could be helpful if we could teach him the difference between weeds and herbs."

"I guess it doesn't really matter if the garden gets wrecked," Dylan pointed out. "We're only going to be here for a couple of weeks."

"Yes," Snape drawled as he and Lupin joined them outside, "but you shouldn't allow him to get in the habit of destroying gardens. My mother will have a fit if he digs up the flower beds at Snape Manor."

Cabal looked up from his digging, face and paws covered with dirt, and barked happily at them. Lupin sighed, "Training Cabal may take a little more time than I thought."

But when he called Cabal away from the garden, the dog came to him obediently, though with obvious reluctance. "Good boy!" Lupin praised, rewarding his pet with a dog biscuit and a good scratch behind the ears. Having been scratched behind the ears many times himself in wolf form, he knew exactly how it should be done.

They had only been at the cottage for a couple of days when Snape received a message from a wizard named Tremayne, the foremost expert in Ancient Runes in the wizarding world. Snape had been trying for some time to get him to accept Theodore as an apprentice, but the Runes Master was crotchety and reclusive, and said he was too old and tired to go through the bother of training another apprentice.

"An archaeological dig has unearthed the ruins of a tower belonging to an ancient wizard-prince in Ireland," Snape announced, smiling triumphantly as he held up Tremayne's letter. "It's quite an important discovery, and there are a number of runes carved on the walls and inscribed in books and scrolls, so they've called in Tremayne to translate them. The scope of the work is such that he'll need an assistant to help him, so he has agreed to take Theodore on in that capacity."

"Really?" Theodore asked eagerly.

Snape nodded. "He didn't really want another apprentice, of course, but he needs the help, and Professor Driscoll gave you a stellar recommendation, so he's agreed to take you on a conditional basis. The work will likely be boring and tedious at first; you'll mainly be running errands and acting as a scribe, but that's how every new apprentice starts out. And Tremayne is a cantankerous old man, but you must always be obedient and respectful no matter how rude he is to you; he'll send you packing at the first sign of insolence. But as ill-tempered as he is, you will learn far more from him than any other scholar I could apprentice you to."

Theodore smiled; as a Slytherin, he already had a great deal of experience in being polite to his ill-tempered and imperious Head of House. He doubted that Tremayne could be anywhere near as intimidating as Snape. "Yes, Father," was all he said. "I promise to be a good apprentice, and accord Master Tremayne the respect due to him."

"When will Theo be leaving?" Lupin asked.

"Tremayne wants you there as soon as possible," Snape told his son. "So start packing your bags. You'll take the Floo to Tremayne's house, and the archaeological team will conduct the two of you to the dig site."

"So soon?" Lupin asked, sounding a little dismayed. "We won't even have time to throw a farewell party for him!"

"Lady Selima will have to postpone his graduation party, too," Dylan chimed in.

"This is an opportunity too good for him to pass up," Snape said. "We can have a party for him when he comes back. Mother will be a little put out, but she'll understand that he can't turn down such a prestigious apprenticeship. I imagine that Tremayne will keep you very busy for the next few weeks, Theodore, but once most of the initial translation has been completed, you should be able to come back home for a short visit. Of course we'll be hoping that Tremayne will keep you on even after the dig is over."

"I'll work hard, Father," Theodore promised. "I'll miss all of you, but I want to earn my Master's certification. I'll write to you when I can."

"Good," Snape said. "Now you had better start packing."

Lupin called Blaise and Selima so that they could say goodbye to Theodore before he left, and they immediately took the Floo over to the cottage. Theodore quickly packed, then hugged his family and kissed his lover goodbye.

"Remember to uphold the honor of the Snape family," Selima said sternly, but she gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek.

"Yes, Grandmother," Theodore said obediently.

"I'll miss you," Blaise said, giving him one last kiss. "But it's a great opportunity for you. Write to me."

"I will," Theodore said, hugging him. Then he hugged Dylan, and Lupin, who sniffled a little, wiping a tear from his eyes, and finally Snape, who gruffly said, "Take care, son." Then Theodore patted Cabal on the head and stepped through the Floo.

Awaiting him was a stern-looking old wizard with a mane of shaggy, untidy-looking silver hair, dressed in robes that were faded and years out of fashion. The house was filled with expensive furnishings, but was dusty and in a state of disarray. Theodore knew that Tremayne was at least moderately wealthy, so he suspected that the state of the Runes Master's house and dress was due to his disinterest in anything but his studies rather than a lack of funds.

Tremayne frowned at Theodore, looking him over with a critical and appraising expression on his face, much the same way that Snape regarded each new first-year Potions class. Without warning, he bluntly said, "So your father's caused quite a stir in the wizarding world, taking up with that werewolf, hasn't he? I never dreamed that a Snape would behave in such an outrageous manner."

Theodore bristled at the comment, but mindful of his father's warning, kept his temper under control and said nothing. He bowed his head to hide his anger, then glanced up and was startled to see a faint glint of amusement in Tremayne's eyes. So...perhaps Tremayne was deliberately baiting him, as a test. 

"Yes, sir," Theodore replied in a tone of utmost respect. "Grandmother says that they have caused quite a scandal. But I think that Professor Lupin enjoys being scandalous. He is a Gryffindor, after all."

Tremayne made a noise that might have been either a snort or a laugh, and his stern expression eased slightly. "Well, your father's choice of bed partners makes no difference to me. All I care about is your skill with runes, and your Ancient Runes Professor says that you are his best student."

Theodore bowed and said, "Yes, sir, but I know that I still have much to learn. I am honored to have the opportunity to serve you, Master Tremayne."

Tremayne snorted again. "Well, you have better manners than your father, at least."

"I beg the Master's pardon, but my father is able to be polite when he deems it necessary," Theodore said, still in that flawlessly courteous voice. "It is just that the necessity rarely seems to arise."

Tremayne almost smiled for a moment, then he said briskly, "Well, enough of exchanging pleasantries. Are you ready to get to work, Mr. Snape?"

"Yes, sir," Theodore said with a smile. He didn't think that working for Tremayne was going to be so bad, after all.

*** 

The next day, Lupin was melancholy and moped around the house all morning. "Do you think this is what a mother bird feels like when her chicks leave the nest?" he sighed over lunch.

"It's not like he'll be gone forever, Remus," Dylan pointed out. "It's only temporary."

"It is the natural order of things for children to grow up and move out on their own," Snape said gruffly. 

"But you came back home to Snape Manor," Lupin said, smiling at him fondly.

"Things are a little different for a pureblood heir," Snape said irritably. "At least you may rest assured that Theodore will eventually return to Snape Manor after he completes his apprenticeship."

"How long will that take?" Lupin asked.

"The dig, or at least Tremayne's and Theodore's role in it, will likely last a few months," Snape replied. "As for how long it will take Theodore to earn his Master's certification...that depends on how fast he learns, and how pleased Tremayne is with his progress. If he does extremely well, he could finish in as soon as a year. Less gifted students normally take two or three to complete their education."

"A year or more?!" Lupin cried, and Cabal whined, picking up on his master's distress.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Lupin, there's no need to get hysterical over it!" Snape snapped. "He'll come home to visit. It's not as if you won't see him at all for an entire year."

"But will Tremayne let him come home?" Lupin asked. "You make him sound like such an ogre."

"He's a hard taskmaster, but he's not unfair," Snape said. "If Theodore works hard, Tremayne will allow him to come home for holidays and the occasional weekend. And if he doesn't work hard, Tremayne won't keep him on as an apprentice."

"I don't think you need to worry about that," Dylan said.

"I concur," Snape agreed. "And all else aside, Tremayne is a recluse; he isn't used to sharing his home with someone else, no matter how hard-working and well-behaved they might be. He'll send Theodore home from time to time, if only to get a little privacy. So stop worrying, Lupin."

Then Lupin smiled at him and cooed, "Oh, Severus, I know you're only acting grumpy because you miss him, too."

Snape's face turned red and he blustered, "I don't know what you're talking about, Lupin! If I'm acting 'grumpy,' as you put it, it's only because you're behaving like an idiot!"

"I love you, too, Sev," Lupin said, leaning over to kiss Snape on the cheek and nuzzle him affectionately as the Potions Master continued to splutter and protest.

Dylan decided that it would be a good idea to give his parents some time alone to comfort each other. He knew that Snape really did miss Theo, despite his bluster. Chuckling softly, Dylan rose from his seat, wrapped a couple of sandwiches in a napkin, and went to get Cabal's leash. "I'm going to take the dog for a walk; is that okay?"

"I think that's a very good idea, Dylan," Lupin purred, without looking up. "A big dog like Cabal needs a lot of exercise, so I think you should him for a long walk."

"Come on, boy," Dylan called, and Cabal jumped up and ran after him eagerly, although it wasn't quite clear whether it was the sandwiches or the prospect of a walk which interested him. 

Dylan gave one of the sandwiches to Cabal and munched on the remaining one himself as they ambled away from the cottage at a leisurely pace. "I might almost suspect that Remus adopted you as an excuse to get some privacy," he told the dog. "Anytime he wants to be alone with the Professor, all he has to do is say, 'Take the dog for a walk.' Of course, we also have Blodwen and Kiseki, but you can't really take an owl or a pet rat for a walk."

Cabal barked happily and wagged his tail, as if agreeing with Dylan. Then he suddenly came to a halt and began to growl.

"What is it, boy?" Dylan asked, automatically tensing and reaching for his wand, then he relaxed and let his hand fall to his side as a familiar figure approached him. "Oh, it's you, Harry," he said. "You startled me; we weren't expecting company today. Have you come to see Remus? You might want to wait a bit before you go in. He and the Professor are...er...a little busy right now, if you know what I mean."

But then "Harry" smiled in a rather nasty way, and as he drew closer, Dylan could see that his eyes were hazel, not green, and that he looked a little older than Harry. "Actually, it was Snape that I was looking for, Dylan. But how very convenient it is that I happened to run into you first."

"Wh...who are you?" Dylan stammered.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," the Harry doppleganger said, and raised his wand.

*** 

Lupin and Snape were just starting to get undressed when they heard loud barking and a scraping sound, like that of a dog clawing at the front door. They could both hear the frantic note in Cabal's voice, and Snape didn't waste any time grumbling about Lupin needing to train the mutt not to bark. They both pulled out their wands and ran for the door, their robes and shirts still hanging open.

They immediately saw that there was large singe mark on Cabal's side, the fur burned away to leave a streak of charred flesh--a wound obviously inflicted by a hostile spell. The dog ignored the wound, though, barking and whining urgently.

"Where's Dylan, boy?" Lupin asked. "Take us to him!"

"No need, Moony," said a very familiar voice. "He's right here." And Lupin turned to see a man holding up a half-conscious Dylan who was bound in magical black ropes; the man had a wand pointed at Dylan. 

Lupin's face turned pale, because the enemy wizard wore the face of one of his best friends. "James?" Lupin whispered.

"Of course he's not James, you idiot!" Snape snarled, his temper sharpened by fear. "James Potter is dead! Finite Incantatum!"

But the illusion, if it was one, was not dispelled. James just laughed and said, "You won't get rid of me that easily, Snape! I can't be banished by a simple Finite Incantatum spell!"

"STUPEFY!" Snape shouted, ruthlessly hurling the spell at James even though he was holding Dylan in front of him as a shield. Snape knew that the spell would only knock Dylan unconscious, not harm him. It was absolutely imperative to take out the impostor; he could apologize to Dylan later, after everyone was safe.

But James shouted, "Protego!" and the Stupefy spell bounced off the Shield Charm harmlessly. "Lower your wands if you want Evan's brat to live, both of you! I can kill him before you touch me!"

"Now I know that you're not James," Lupin said angrily. "James would never have threatened an innocent boy or used him as a hostage."

James laughed bitterly. "Innocent? Can the son of a Death Eater really be innocent? I watched you in the television, boy. You wanted to become a Death Eater like your daddy until you had a change of heart when they showed their true colors to you." Dylan just stared at him in confusion and fear.

"Television?" Lupin murmured, a puzzled frown creasing his forehead.

Snape ignored the babblings of the impostor, which made no sense to him. It was quite possible that the wizard was mad, but he didn't really care whether "James" was sane or not; all that mattered was that he was a threat that needed to be eliminated. He raised his wand, hoping that he could strike while the impostor was busy talking to Lupin and Dylan.

But James was too quick for him. "CRUCIO!" he cried, and Dylan screamed as his body convulsed in pain.

"I'll kill you, Potter!" Snape shouted, momentarily forgetting that the intruder couldn't possibly be James Potter. Both he and Lupin attacked, but James was able to deflect their spells.

"Back off!" James snarled. "Or the next spell I cast will be a Killing Curse!"

Lupin and Snape slowly lowered their wands and cautiously backed away a few steps.

"Who are you?" Lupin asked quietly. "What do you want? Please--if you need a hostage, take me instead."

"Lupin!" Snape protested.

Lupin ignored him, slowly walking forward. "If you wish revenge for the fallen Death Eaters, I am the one you should take. I was an original member of the Order of the Phoenix. If it is Severus you wish to hurt, then nothing could hurt him more than the loss of his lover, his beloved pet werewolf. Take me, but let Dylan go."

"R...Remus...no," Dylan whispered, struggling to get the words out.

"You see what you've done?!" James shouted at Snape. "You've turned them all against me--Moony, Padfoot, even my own son!"

The anger and suspicion in Snape's eyes slowly turned to confusion. "I think that he really believes that he's James Potter," Snape whispered to Lupin.

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here!" James snapped. "And I _am_ James Potter!" He gave Lupin a pleading look. "Moony, you've got to believe me! I know it sounds crazy, but it's me, Prongs! I couldn't move on after I died; I stayed behind to watch over Harry!"

"Then tell me something only James would know," Lupin said skeptically. 

"I know that Snape used to wear gray underpants," James said, sneering at Snape, who turned red and glared at him murderously. His hand clenched more tightly around his wand, trembling slightly with rage, and it was clear that Dylan's safety was the only thing holding him back from attacking James.

"Half the school saw that nasty little prank," Lupin said coldly. "You'll have to do better than that."

"We figured out by second year that you were a werewolf," James said. "But it wasn't until the beginning of our fifth year that we were able to master the Animagus spells."

Snape gave Lupin a questioning look, and Lupin hesitantly said, "That's right..."

"You came home with me for Christmas during third year," James continued. "I showed you the rock where Sirius and I used to play Merlin and Arthur. We used magic to create two snow sculptures--a lion fighting a serpent."

"Is that true?" Snape asked Lupin.

Lupin nodded, turning a little pale. "No one could have known that but us," he whispered.

"Pettigrew accompanied you and Black to Potter's house that year," Snape reminded him. He had spied on Lupin so obsessively as a child that he still remembered small details like that more than two decades later. "The rat could have mentioned it to some of the other Death Eaters."

"In fifth year, you carved a wooden stag for me for my Christmas present," James added. "I gave you a copy of 'Quidditch Through the Ages'. For your birthday present that year I got you a new bookbag because your old one was falling apart. Along with a box of Bertie Bott's beans."

"That's true," Lupin whispered. "It's true that Peter would have known these things too, but would he really have passed on all these bits of trivia to the Death Eaters? What would be the point of that?"

"Perhaps exactly for the purpose of impersonating one of you," Snape replied. "It certainly seems more believable to me than Potter returning from the dead!"

"Damn it, Moony, I'm telling you the truth!" James cried in frustration. "Ask me anything you like, anything that would prove to you that I'm me!"

"My friend James would never have cast a Cruciatus Curse on anyone, not even an enemy!" Lupin shouted. "James would never have hurt my son!"

"The Moony I remembered would not have betrayed his friends by adopting a Death Eater's son!" James retorted. "Or by taking a Death Eater into his bed!"

While James was arguing with Snape and Lupin, Cabal took the opportunity to sneak up behind him while he was distracted. And suddenly James cried out in pain as the dog sank its teeth into his leg.

"You mangy mutt!" James screamed. He kicked at the dog, then hit it with a spell that sent it flying through the air until it struck a nearby tree. Cabal fell to the ground, whimpered once, then lay still.

Meanwhile, Snape pointed his wand at James and shouted, "Stupefy!" while Lupin simultaneously shouted, "Aperio Veritas! Reveal your true form!"

James screamed, and his form seemed to blur and waver, his tall, thin build slowly melting into one shorter and stouter. Dylan fell limp in his captor's arm, but James remained conscious--only it was no longer James standing before him.

Rabastan Lestrange stared at Snape with desperate, pleading eyes. "Please help me, Severus!" he begged. "Get him out of my head!"

Snape just stared at Rabastan in shock. He would have expected his former comrade to be out for his blood if they ever crossed paths again, not begging for his help. "Get whom out of your head?" he asked.

"Potter, of course, you idiot!" Rabastan screamed. "I was using a Necromantic spell to try to contact Rodolphus and Bellatrix, and I touched Potter's mind by accident! I tried to bind his spirit to my will, but he overwhelmed me and took over my mind and body! Please, Severus, I would rather go to Azkaban than be a prisoner in my own--" His words dissolved into an anguished, despairing wail, and then his body once again resumed the form of James Potter.

"It's poetic justice, don't you think?" James laughed, his hazel eyes glittering madly. "Voldemort killed me, but one of his servants gave me the means by which to return to life."

"James," Lupin whispered, his eyes filled with horror. He finally believed that he really was speaking to his old friend, although he profoundly wished that he didn't. "James, you always abhorred Dark Magic. Using Necromancy to possess someone and come back from the dead is purest evil."

"Lestrange summoned me, not the other way around!" James snarled. "He intended to enslave me, so I feel no guilt about turning the tables on him!"

"But why have you remained behind, James?" Lupin cried. "You said that you were watching over Harry, but Voldemort has been dead for more than a year, and Harry is safe and doing well. Why is your soul not at peace, Prongs?"

"How can it be at peace when that Slytherin bastard has turned my son and friends against me?!" James shouted.

"He's done nothing of the sort!" Lupin protested.

"There's no point in arguing with a madman, Lupin," Snape said softly, his black eyes staring intently at James, searching for an opening, for a drop in the other's man's guard, waiting for the opportunity to attack.

Lupin ignored Snape and continued to plead with his friend, "I love Severus, but that doesn't mean that I've betrayed you, James! I admit that it grieved me that you and Sirius were always at odds with Severus, but the two of you have always been my dearest friends. I have always been grateful for your friendship and loyalty, even if I didn't always agree with you. And Harry--he's grown into a fine young man, James, one that you should be proud of. He loves you very much. I don't see how you can say that Severus turned him against you; even though they've set aside their animosity, I would hardly say that they're close friends."

Lupin had thought that Dylan had been knocked unconscious, but either he had not suffered the full effect of the Stupefy spell, or it was beginning to wear off, because he said in a slurred voice, "Harry loves you, Mr. Potter. We talked one day, about how much we both loved our fathers."

"Don't compare me to Evan Rosier, you brat!" James snapped, then turned back to Lupin. "And don't play dumb with me, Moony! I know all about the scene that Harry saw in the Pensieve, and how my dear best friends told him that his father wasn't really such a bad guy even though he was a prejudiced, immature idiot."

Lupin stared at him dumbfounded, stunned into silence.

"He doesn't want me as his father anymore!" James screamed hysterically. "He's replaced me with Sirius!"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Potter," Snape said contemptuously. "You've hung around all this time just because you're upset that your son saw what a bully you were in school? Only a Gryffindor could be so melodramatic. So Harry saw that you weren't perfect; so what? Most children are able to figure out that their parents aren't perfect well before their teens."

James pointed his wand at Snape, and Lupin cried, "No, James!" and immediately leaped in front of Snape, flinging his arms out wide, interposing himself between them like a living shield.

"It's obvious where your loyalties lie, Remus," James said accusingly. "You stole my son, Snape; now I'm stealing yours. You can have Dylan back when you return Harry to me. I'll contact you with the time and place later."

"James, wait!" Lupin screamed, and Snape pushed him aside, shouting, "Potter!" They both hurled spells at James, but it was too late. James had already Disapparated, along with Dylan, by the time the spells reached the spot where he had been standing.

Lupin and Snape just stood there for a few moments, staring in horrified disbelief at the empty patch of ground where James and Dylan had been. Then Snape forced himself to snap out of his state of shock. "Lupin!"

"Dylan," Lupin whispered, a dazed, stricken look on his face. "He took Dylan..."

Snape grabbed Lupin by the shoulders and shook him. "Lupin, we don't have time for this!" he shouted.

Lupin blinked, and his blue eyes seemed to come into focus again. "You're right, Severus. What should we do?"

"You contact Black and Branwen, and try to get hold of Dumbledore. He's on vacation, but McGonagall might know where he went. I'm going to Ireland to bring Theodore back, in case Potter decides to go after him, too. I'll meet you at Snape Manor; obviously the cottage isn't safe anymore. Tell my mother to reinforce the wards on the estate."

"I will, Severus," Lupin said. "Be careful."

"You too," Snape said solemnly. "Potter may have been your friend once, but he's obviously no longer sane, and he might regard you as a traitor and an enemy. And don't forget that Rabastan Lestrange is still in there, even if Potter is controlling his body."

"Yes, Severus," Lupin said, tears forming in his eyes. "Go quickly, and bring Theo back home." Snape nodded and Disapparated. Lupin went over to check on Cabal, and to his relief, the dog stirred, lifted his head weakly, and whined. "Thank Merlin you're still alive," Lupin whispered, and Cabal licked his hand. Lupin gathered the dog up in his arms and went back into the cottage to contact Branwen, Sirius, and Harry, although he had no idea how he was going to break the news to Harry that his father had returned from the dead as a vengeful spirit.


	8. The Revenant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape's and Harry's families gather together at Snape Manor after Dylan's kidnapping.

At the archaeological dig site, Theodore looked up in surprise as Snape approached them, carefully picking his way through the rubble. Without looking up from the runes he was examining, Tremayne said curtly, "We're busy, Snape. You wanted me to take the boy on as my apprentice, but I can't teach him anything if you're going to be interrupting us every five minutes."

"He's in danger," Snape said, just as bluntly. "And he might well bring danger upon you and the other members of the team if he remains."

That got Tremayne's attention, and he looked up, startled, as Theodore asked anxiously, "Father, what's wrong?"

Snape hesitated for just a second. The real story was too complicated to explain, and likely Tremayne wouldn't believe it, anyway. So all he said was, "Rabastan Lestrange has come out of hiding," which was true enough, although it wasn't the complete truth. "He's already kidnapped my foster son Dylan. I need to get Theodore somewhere safe."

"Father!" Theodore cried, his face turning pale. "Is Dylan all right?"

"I'll explain later," Snape said. "We have to get out of here."

"Very well," Tremayne said gravely. "Young Theodore's safety comes first, of course. But do try and get this mess wrapped up quickly, Snape, so that I can have my apprentice back as soon as possible. We have a lot of work to do." He handed Theodore a leather-bound notebook. "Here, take your notes with you, Mr. Snape, and continue working on the translation. There's no need to remain idle while you're in hiding."

"Yes, sir," Theodore said, smiling faintly despite his worry. 

Snape raised his eyebrows, surprised to see that the old curmudgeon seemed to have taken a liking to Theodore, but he had no time to dwell on it now. "Come here, Theodore. You've never Apparated this far before, so I'll take us both back home."

"Yes, Father."

They reappeared in the entrance hall of Snape Manor, where the Snape house-elf, Vorcher, was waiting for them, anxiously wringing his hands. "The Masters and Mistresses are waiting for Master Severus and Master Theodore upstairs in the library," he said.

They ran up the stairs, and found Lupin, Selima, Branwen, Sirius, and Harry seated around a large table in the library, as Vorcher had said. Snape was surprised to see Dylan's owl Blodwen perched on top one of the book shelves beside Socrates, Selima's great horned owl, as well as the cage holding Kiseki, Lupin's pet rat, sitting on the table. But most surprising of all was the fact that Cabal was lying on an expensive carpet, lapping water from a silver dish, as Prospero and Blaise Zabini knelt beside him, applying healing salve to his wounds. Even more amazing, Lady Selima made no protest, frowning in a preoccupied manner as she looked up from the book she had been reading. 

"Ah, Severus, thank Merlin you and Theodore are all right!" Selima said, smiling in relief. "We were beginning to get a little worried about you."

"Theo!" Blaise cried, jumping up and throwing his arms around his lover. "I'm so glad that you're all right!"

"I couldn't Apparate directly to the dig site, as I've never been there before," Snape explained to his mother as Theodore embraced Blaise, still looking puzzled and worried. "I had to Apparate to the nearest village, and have one of the locals show me the way." He gave Lupin a puzzled look. "You brought the animals with you?"

"Well, of course," Lupin replied. "Cabal needed healing, and I couldn't leave Blodwen and Kiseki behind, either. If we're gone, there's no one there to feed them, and who knows how long it will be before it's safe to go back?"

"So the mutt's all right?" Snape asked, feeling more relieved than he wanted to let on.

"I've applied some salve, and put some healing potion in his water," Prospero replied. "I think he should be fine with a little rest." He gently stroked the dog's head, crooning, "You're such a brave fellow, aren't you, risking your life to help your masters?" Cabal licked his hand, his tail weakly thumping against the carpet.

"And...er...not to be rude, but what are you doing here?" Snape asked.

"Prospero was dropping off a copy of his new book," Selima said, blushing slightly. "He thought that Professor Lupin might like to read it. He just happened to be here when the Professor called to say what had happened."

"And of course I knew that Blaise would be concerned about Theodore and Dylan, so I called him over," Prospero added.

"But aren't you supposed to be working at the museum?" Theodore asked Blaise. "You might get fired for skipping out on work after you've just been hired."

"I told them it was a family emergency," Blaise said impatiently. "Besides, I don't care if they fire me or not. You're much more important to me than any job, Theo, and Dylan, too. If you're in danger, then I want to be here with you, helping to get Dylan back, not leading a bunch of tourists around a museum."

"And besides," Selima pointed out practically, "even if he loses his summer job at the museum, he still has a position awaiting him at Hogwarts in the fall."

Theodore nodded, then asked almost plaintively, "Can someone please tell me what's going on here? What happened to Dylan?" When Snape and Lupin had finished explaining, he shook his head in amazement. "James Potter came back from the dead? That sounds even crazier than Mr. Zabini's stories! Ah...no offense, sir."

"None taken," Prospero said. "I agree that it's a plot that even I couldn't have dreamed up."

"I don't understand!" Harry protested. "Surely it's got to be some kind of trick that Lestrange is playing! Are you really saying that my father is a ghost?"

"Not a ghost, precisely," Selima said, maintaining an air of calm despite her obvious concern. "I think perhaps this might be what happened..." She handed the book she was holding to Snape; it was a text on Necromancy, one that was on the Ministry's list of prohibited books. There were several other books on Necromancy and Dark Magic lying on the table, and the secret door to the hidden room of Dark Arts books was open.

"Hmm," Snape said as he read the passage that she indicated. "I think you're right, Mother."

"Care to enlighten the rest of us, Snape?" Sirius asked sharply, but his eyes were filled with fear and concern, so neither Snape nor Selima took offense.

"I believe that James Potter has become a Revenant," Snape said.

"I don't think I've heard of that term before," Sirius said, frowning.

"It's an obscure Necromantic term, I believe," Branwen said. "It refers to a spirit summoned back after death, doesn't it?"

"How is that different from a ghost?" Harry demanded.

"The dictionary definition of 'revenant' is 'one who returns after death or a long absence,'" Snape replied. "The Necromantic definition refers to a vengeful spirit summoned back to the world of the living, usually to take revenge on someone who has wronged the deceased. The difference between a ghost and a Revenant is that a ghost makes the choice to remain on Earth as a spirit, while a Revenant is usually summoned by a Necromancer. I'm not surprised that you aren't familiar with the term, Black; such summonings are very rare. Few wizards these days have a talent for Necromancy, and a Necromancer can't just summon any dead person he pleases. A ghost has free will, and cannot normally be bound in this fashion, and a Necromancer cannot reach those souls which have already passed on to the afterlife. But it is believed that a few dead souls linger on, in what you might call a temporary state of limbo, unwilling or afraid to become ghosts, yet not willing to pass on into true death, either. These souls in limbo usually have unfinished business with, or strong emotional ties to the living--a murder victim who wishes to see his killer brought to justice, or a parent who wants to watch over a child, for example."

Everyone turned to look at Harry. "B-but Voldemort is dead!" Harry protested. "I avenged my mother and father! If it really is my dad, why hasn't he moved on?"

Lupin looked troubled. "He kept saying that Severus had turned you against him. In fact, he seemed to believe that Sirius and I had turned against him as well."

"He seemed to be referring to the time that Potter junior spied on my thoughts in the Pensieve," Snape said. "He seemed to be upset that his son saw him behaving like a bully, and equally offended that Lupin and Black told Mr. Potter that his father was an immature idiot at the time."

"I can't believe that James would come back from the dead just for that!" Sirius cried. "Or that he would kidnap Dylan and use a Cruciatus Curse on him! Isn't it more likely that Lestrange was posing as James for some reason?"

"I admit that seems like the more logical conclusion," Snape conceded. "But you didn't see Rabastan's eyes; he was truly terrified. I have known him since we were children, and I think I know him well enough to tell whether he's lying or not. Besides, Rabastan was never that good an actor; he and Rodolphus and Bellatrix were always arrogant and defiant, even after they'd been captured. He would never grovel and plead for help, not even to get an enemy to lower their defenses."

"It takes a great deal to frighten a Death Eater," Branwen murmured solemnly.

"He told us things that only the Marauders would know," Lupin said. "I know it's possible that Peter could have shared that information with someone else, but I find it hard to believe that he would have told the Death Eaters what James gave me for Christmas during fifth year, or about the rock where you and James used to play King Arthur, Sirius. Those were trivial, personal details, not intelligence about the Order's plans. I don't know how to explain it, but it just felt like it was James, even though I'd rather believe that it was Lestrange. His hatred for Severus felt real, too; it was irrational and out of proportion, but James's animosity towards Severus has always felt irrational to me. I can understand now why Severus hated James so much, but I never really understood why James hated Severus."

"He hated Dark Magic," Sirius whispered, looking ashamed of himself as he remembered how he had joined James in hexing and taunting Snape. "That's why he hated all Slytherins. I suppose that Snape became his prime target because he was always following us around."

"The two of you were opposites, Severus," Branwen said quietly. "Like flip sides of a coin--light and dark; Gryffindor and Slytherin. But James did not understand that light cannot exist without darkness, and vice versa."

"But that's why I can't believe that it's James!" Sirius said earnestly. "I can see that he might want to come after Snape, maybe challenge him to a duel--but to take Dylan as a hostage? Not to mention casting an Unforgivable Curse! Back in the old days, we had been given dispensation to use Unforgivable Curses on the Death Eaters, but James refused to use them. He believed that using Dark spells would corrupt the soul of the wizard who used them."

"So perhaps he thinks that Father is still a Death Eater?" Theodore mused. "And maybe that Dylan is one too, since his father was a Death Eater?"

"But if he's been watching over Harry from Heaven or the afterlife or wherever it is that dead spirits hang about, shouldn't he have realized by now that the Professor and Dylan were fighting against the Dark Lord?" Blaise asked doubtfully.

"You said that my dad wasn't a bad person, even if he acted like an idiot sometimes!" Harry told Lupin and Sirius tearfully. "He may have done some dumb things in the past, but surely he'd never do anything really evil, like hurting Dylan! I mean, I know that he hexed Professor Snape and that he was wrong to do it, but that's not the same thing as casting a Crucio spell!"

"Maybe it's Rabastan's influence?" Prospero suggested. "If Severus is correct, Rabastan's mind is still aware even if James is controlling his body. James could be picking up on some of Rabastan's thoughts and emotions, even though he might not consciously be aware of it."

"It's possible," Snape said. "As much as I hated Potter, I do agree that it's out of character for him to kidnap a teenage boy, even the son of a Death Eater, or to use an Unforgivable Curse. But you must realize that Potter is probably no longer entirely sane. The summoner of a Revenant uses the spirit's desire for revenge to call it. Once Potter answered that call, his anger and hatred would have overwhelmed him. It's something like the effect of a Dementor's attack, only the Revenant is left with a burning need for vengeance rather than despair. He may have forgotten some of his happier memories, although from our conversation, it seems that he does still remember events from his childhood. But you can't expect him to behave rationally. He is no longer the old James that we knew."

"Severus is right," Branwen whispered, her eyes filled with dread and horror. "I don't believe that this is a deception on Rabastan's part. This is why James's grave was desecrated."

"What?!" Snape and Lupin chorused.

"We took Harry to visit his parents' graves this morning," Branwen explained. "James's grave had been dug up, and a finger cut from his hand. We figured that it must have been a Death Eater or a Death Eater sympathizer, perhaps Rabastan, but we didn't know what he wanted the finger for. But now it's obvious: Rabastan needed a part of James's body in order to summon his spirit."

Snape nodded. "The spell requires the bone or blood or flesh of the one being summoned."

"I don't understand why Rabastan would want to do something so dangerous, though," Branwen said. "I can see that he might want to summon the spirit of a deceased Death Eater, perhaps his brother or sister-in-law, although even a friendly spirit can turn against the caster--the Revenant, as you pointed out, is no longer sane, and spirits who linger after death often hunger for a return to life. One of the dangers of summoning a dead soul is that the spirit might attempt to possess the body of the summoner and claim it for its own--which is apparently what happened to Rabastan. Why on earth would he try to summon the spirit of one of his worst enemies?"

"We only spoke to Rabastan briefly before Potter's personality took over again," Snape replied. "He said that he was attempting to contact Rodolphus and Bellatrix, but that he touched Potter's mind instead, and decided to bind the spirit to his will. That is the sort of thing that would appeal to Lestrange--to enslave an enemy even after his death, but he should have known how dangerous it would be to attempt such a spell. Then again, he spent over a decade in Azkaban under the Dementors' influence, so he was probably not mentally stable to begin with, and the defeat of the Dark Lord and the deaths of his brother and sister-in-law may have sent him over the edge. And even if Rabastan is still sane, having Potter's mind dominating his will likely drive him mad soon enough."

"So basically we have two insane minds trapped in the body of a Dark Wizard," Selima said dryly. "This is getting worse by the minute. I don't suppose that their insanity will inhibit their ability to cast spells."

"Probably not," Snape said glumly. "There isn't a great deal of verifiable information on Revenants, as no one has been known to have conjured one for at least three hundred years, but Potter seems to have retained his skills as a wizard even though he's lost his sanity. And if he has access to Rabastan's memories, it's possible that he could cast Dark spells that Rabastan knew, even if James had never learned them."

"One of your ancestors ran afoul of a Necromancer, didn't he, Severus?" Prospero asked. 

"Yes, Sebastian Snape, in the time of the Founders," Snape replied. "That is why the Snapes have such an extensive collection of Necromantic texts--not to practice Necromancy, but to learn how to defend against it."

"Then you know how to defeat the Revenant?" Theodore asked hopefully.

"Sebastian's enemy never used a Revenant," Snape said unhappily. "I'll need to conduct further research in order to figure out how to banish it."

"But the Revenant is my dad!" Harry cried. "I mean, I know that it's Lestrange's body, but it's my dad's spirit in there! Will you have to hurt him?"

"He's already dead!" Theodore snapped. "Besides, would you rather let him kill Dylan?"

"No, but..." Harry stared at Sirius and Lupin pleadingly.

Prospero got up and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Do not worry, Harry," he said soothingly. "Your father is already dead; we cannot really hurt him further. What we need to do is find a way to separate James's spirit from Rabastan's body and help him pass on, as he should have done years ago, to join your mother and be at peace." 

Harry calmed down a little, but Prospero exchanged a shrewd look with Snape over Harry's shoulder. They both knew that it was difficult but not impossible to harm a spirit; it was even said that the greatest of Necromancers were able to destroy a spirit completely, although Snape didn't think that he had enough power to do such a thing, even if he had known how to do it. But there was no point in sending the boy into hysterics by pointing that out to him. If Snape could simply send James Potter on into the afterlife, he would, but he wouldn't hesitate to do whatever was necessary to save his son, no matter what the cost was to James Potter's soul--or his own.

"What about Dumbledore?" Snape asked Lupin. "Will he be able to help us? If anyone can handle a Revenant, it's him. And he and Potter were close; he might be able to get through to him."

Lupin shook his head glumly. "No, he's already left on his fishing trip, and he didn't give Minerva a forwarding address. She's busy contacting villages near fishing spots where he might have gone, but we don't even know whether he's still in this country or not."

"How could he just go off without telling anyone where he went?" Snape fumed. "He's the Headmaster of Hogwarts, after all! What if an emergency arose? Like this one, for example!"

"It's summer, and there are no students at the castle," Lupin pointed out patiently. "I'm sure he thought that Minerva could handle things by herself for a couple of weeks. And you know how some of the Ministry officials are always pestering him, asking for his advice and help on every little thing--he probably didn't want the first vacation he's had in decades to be interrupted."

"Well, we need him now!" Snape said, pounding his fist on the table in frustration.

"I'm sorry, Severus," Lupin said. "Minerva's doing her best to find him. And she did say that we could take shelter at the castle if you would feel safer there."

"No," Snape said adamantly. "I would not feel at all safe; Potter knows too many secret entrances into the castle, what with that bloody Marauder's Map the four of you created. No, I would rather stay at Snape Manor. It's well-warded, and Potter has never been here before."

"The Lestranges have been here a few times," Selima said, "but I don't think that Rabastan has been here often enough to be familiar with the mansion, and I have specifically set the wards to bar either Rabastan or James Potter from entering."

"Good," Snape said.

"I wonder if he targeted Dylan specifically, or if it was simply a crime of opportunity?" Prospero mused out loud. "Theodore is your legal son, but Rabastan fled before you adopted him, and he was aware that you were close to Dylan. It could be a sign that James is being somewhat influenced by Rabastan's memories."

"I'm not sure," Snape said. "It was probably coincidence. Theodore had left to start his apprenticeship in Ireland, and Dylan happened to be walking the dog when Potter arrived. It seemed like he had come to attack me, but took Dylan as a hostage when the opportunity arose."

"We should go through these books and look for ways to combat a Revenant," Selima said, her voice cool although her eyes were anxious. "But we must be prepared for the fact that he might contact us before we have time to complete our research. Did he say how he would contact you, Remus?"

"No," Lupin said, looking worried. "Perhaps I should stay at the cottage in case he comes back."

"Not alone, you won't!" Snape said sharply.

"We could send an elemental to watch for James and carry his message," Prospero suggested.

"An excellent idea!" Branwen said approvingly. "I'll summon a few air elementals and send them to the cottage right away. Then I'll go to Blackmore Manor and see if there are any Necromantic texts in the library that might be of use to us."

"I would appreciate that, Branwen," Snape said. 

"And we must decide what to do if Potter demands an exchange of hostages before we have found a way to banish the Revenant," Selima said firmly.

"You can't be thinking of handing Harry over to him!" Sirius shouted, jumping to his feet.

"Then should we let your ghostly friend kill Dylan?!" Selima shouted back at him.

Snape stared at Harry silently for a few moments, a troubled, torn look on his face. Harry stared back at him in confusion, then realized with a start that Snape didn't want to put him in danger. He was shocked, because he knew that Snape thought of Dylan like a son, so he would have thought that the Potions Master would do anything to get Dylan back--including exchanging Dylan for Harry, whom he had never liked to begin with. But then again, he had protected Harry for seven years at Hogwarts, even if he had never been very gracious about it. Harry suddenly remembered something Lupin had told him once, that Snape would never let harm befall a student in his care if he could prevent it.

"Of course we won't hand Potter junior over to him, Black," Snape finally said in a cool voice as his mother gave him an affronted look. "It would be too dangerous. We'll have someone pose as Mr. Potter using an Illusion spell or Polyjuice Potion. The potion would be safer, I think, since an illusion can be easily dispelled. But it will have to be someone who knows both Potters well enough to fool Potter senior, so it would have to be you or Lupin."

"I'll do it," Lupin instantly volunteered. 

"Black's reckless personality is closer to Mr. Potter's, though," Snape said. "You could give yourself away if you do or say something out of character."

"Wait a minute!" Harry interrupted as they debated over who should impersonate him. "No one's even asked me if I'm willing to go!"

The adults all turned to stare at him. "Harry, it's too dangerous!" Sirius said firmly.

"But if it really is my dad, he won't hurt me," Harry said earnestly. "I'll tell him that he's wrong about Professor Snape turning me against him, and I'll convince him to let Dylan go."

"Didn't I just get through explaining that your father is no longer in his right mind?" Snape asked waspishly. "A sane James Potter would not hurt his son, but the Revenant is not sane. All it wants is revenge."

"It's also possible that Rabastan might regain control of his body," Prospero said gravely. "And if he did, then he might well want to harm you, Harry."

"But I feel like it's my fault," Harry said. "He took Dylan because of me." He remembered the talk they'd had near the end of the school year, when Dylan had patiently listened to him talk about his desire to call Sirius "Dad" and his fear that he would be disloyal to his real father if he did so. Dylan had treated him like a friend, even though they had never been close before and Harry had suspected him of being a Death Eater in the past. "If my dad...if the Revenant is dangerous, then he might hurt Dylan if he finds out that you've tricked him and sent someone else in my place. Dylan is my friend; I can't let him be hurt if there's anything I can do to help him."

Snape gave him a surprised but grateful look. "Well, I wouldn't have asked you to do it, Potter, but if you're willing..."

"No!" Sirius said. "I'm his father and I forbid it! I'll go in Harry's place, and I'll do anything I can to rescue Dylan, but I will not allow Harry to risk his life by going up against a Death Eater and a vengeful spirit!"

Harry opened his mouth to argue that he wasn't a child anymore, when a sudden suspicion made his blood run cold. "Professor Snape...Remus," Harry said slowly. "What exactly did my father say about my turning against him? Did he only mention the prank I saw in the Pensieve, or he did he say something else?"

Snape frowned, trying to remember. "He was babbling something about you not wanting him as a father anymore, and being replaced by Black. Which is ridiculous, because he's the one who chose Black as your godfather, but as I said, he's not thinking rationally."

"Oh my God," Harry whispered. "It really is my fault."

"Of course it's not your fault, Harry," Lupin said gently. "James has held a grudge against Severus since before you were born. The spell that Lestrange used only magnified his anger--"

"No, you don't understand," Harry interrupted miserably. "I know why my father thinks that I've betrayed him. Just the other day, I asked Sirius if I could start calling him 'Dad'. I talked it over with Dylan, too, before school let out. I thought he'd understand how I felt, since you and the Professor became his parents after his mum died. I really wanted to think of Sirius as my Dad, not just my godfather, but I was worried that I was being disloyal to my real dad. But Dylan said that calling Sirius 'Dad' wouldn't make me forget about my parents or love them any less. And then I talked about it with Sirius and Prof...with Sirius and Branwen, and they said that it was okay. They said that my dad wouldn't mind, but maybe he did. He must have felt like I didn't want him to be my father anymore."

Sirius's face had turned sheet-white. "I did tell Harry that James wouldn't mind, that he'd be happy for us," he whispered. "I honestly thought that he would be. We were best friends, and he asked me to be Harry's godfather...I thought that he'd want Harry to have a loving family."

"And I told Harry the same thing," Branwen said quietly. "But to be honest, I believed that the question was rhetorical. We had no idea that James's spirit had not moved on, or that he might be listening to our conversation."

"So it's my fault," Harry said, guilt-stricken. "I never should have asked Sirius if I could call him 'Dad.'"

"You weren't wrong to do so," Lupin said gently. "You deserve to be part of a family, Harry, and I know that you still love your father. If James were in his right mind, he would have realized that, too."

"You said that the spell magnified my father's anger," Harry replied. "But there must have been some anger there to begin with, because Professor Snape said that a Revenant is a vengeful spirit. If James hadn't wanted revenge, then Lestrange wouldn't have been able to summon him, right?"

"Correct," Snape said thoughtfully. "A surprisingly insightful observation, Mr. Potter."

"If my father wasn't unhappy, then he wouldn't still be hanging around," Harry persisted. "He would have moved on to...well, whatever comes next after death. So he probably really was upset about me wanting to call Sirius 'Dad.'"

"Maybe, maybe not," Snape said. "It doesn't matter now. As much as it pains me to admit it, we could use your assistance, Mr. Potter. I would rather not take the chance that Potter senior might detect an impostor. But if you're only coming along out of guilt and self-pity, then we don't need you. Someone in that state of mind is likely to be careless and make mistakes, thereby putting everyone involved, including yourself and Dylan, at risk."

Snape's harsh words stung Harry, and he realized that he had been feeling sorry for himself. He sat up straight, filled with a new sense of resolve. "No, sir. I want to go along because I want to help Dylan, if I can."

Snape gave him a curt nod of approval. "Very well, then."

"Wait a minute!" Sirius snapped. "I'm his legal guardian, and I say that he's not going!"

Branwen placed a hand on her husband's arm. "Harry is no longer a child, Sirius," she said softly. "I don't want to see him put in danger, either, but he has the right to make his own decisions. He will become an Auror soon, and we will not be able to stop him from putting himself in danger in the line of duty. Or do you intend to hold him prisoner in Grimmauld Place for the rest of his life?"

"You put yourself in danger, too, Sirius, working for the Order of the Phoenix," Harry pointed out. "I was so scared when Bellatrix nearly killed you. But I understand that you did it because you had to. And I have to do this, Sirius. Dylan is my friend. It's not right for me to sit safe at home if there's something I can do to help him."

Sirius bowed his head, tears in his eyes. "I still don't like this," he muttered.

"I don't like it, either," Lupin said, giving Harry a worried smile. "But Harry is a strong Defensive mage, and he held his own against the Death Eaters. And it's possible that he might be able to get through to James and make him come to his senses."

"I think that even in his present state, James would hesitate to attack his own son," Snape admitted. "But don't let down your guard, Mr. Potter. Your father isn't sane. If you anger him, he might lash out and attack you. He would probably be remorseful later if he killed you, but you would still be dead. And of course Rabastan has no reason to hold back from attacking you."

"Yes, sir," Harry said. "I'll be careful, I promise."

Snape sighed wearily. "It's probably futile to expect a Gryffindor to be careful, but do your best, Mr. Potter."

"It is possible that we might find a way to defeat the Revenant without Mr. Potter's help," Prospero said, although his hopeful tone rang a bit hollow. "So let's start looking through these texts."

"And I'll summon the elementals and send them to the cottage," Branwen said.

"All right then," Snape said briskly. "Let's get to work, everyone!"


	9. The Hostage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dylan tries to reason with his captor.

James Apparated to the Shrieking Shack and unceremoniously dumped the bound, half-conscious boy in a corner. This wasn't really an ideal hiding place, but it would do for now. His cottage in Godric's Hollow and the Potter mansion had both been destroyed. Rabastan knew of several hiding places that the Death Eaters had established, but his host's memories were blurry and distorted, and James wasn't sure if he would be able to Apparate safely based on those hazy images. Rabastan, of course, would have no problem Apparating to the hiding places, but that would require giving control of his body back to Rabastan--something that was obviously unacceptable. 

James didn't think that it would occur to Moony and Padfoot that he would return to the site of their old confrontation with Snape. Or would it? It was so hard to think with his heart clamoring for revenge, and with Rabastan clamoring inside his head, demanding the return of his body. He had the Death Eater walled off in a small corner of his own mind, but it was as if Rabastan was pounding on that wall with imaginary fists, frantically trying to break it down. His efforts were completely ineffectual, but they did serve to give James a pounding headache. 

James groaned, rubbing his temples. He should be glad to have his body--or a body--back again, but he had forgotten how inconvenient bodies could be, with their aches and pains, and need for food and water and rest. If they stayed here too long, he would have to venture out to get some food for himself and the boy, not to mention the fact that the plumbing in the Shack probably didn't work anymore. Besides, he shouldn't give Snape too long to prepare a counterattack. 

The problem was, James wasn't sure what he intended to do next. He had rushed off to confront Snape in a blind rage without really thinking about it. Then he'd seen Evan's son, Snape's pet and protege, and he had realized that he could steal the boy, a fitting revenge for the way that Snape had turned Harry against him. And then he had gotten the idea of exchanging Dylan for Harry, because that was what he really wanted, wasn't it? To see Harry again, to win back his son's affection and restore Harry's faith in him?

"Where are we?" Dylan whispered, interrupting James's train of thought. The boy struggled to raise himself up--rather awkwardly, more kneeling than sitting since his limbs were still bound, but he managed by bracing himself against the wall.

"None of your business," James replied curtly, then set about casting silence spells and obscurement spells to avoid attracting the attention of the Hogsmeade villagers, as well as warding spells to alert him to the presence of intruders and delay their entry.

"Do you really think that Harry would approve of this, Mr. Potter?" Dylan asked, still looking weak, but obviously shaking off the effects of the Stupefy spell.

"Shut up!" James snapped.

"You're wrong, you know," Dylan persisted. "About Professor Snape turning Harry and Remus against you. Remus always talks about what good friends you were, and how much it meant to him that you didn't care about his lycanthropy."

"I'm not interested in your opinion, Rosier," James said sharply. The boy's voice was earnest and persuasive, but James remembered what a smooth talker Evan Rosier had been, and he didn't intend to let himself be swayed or distracted by Evan's son.

"And you're wrong about Harry," Dylan continued. "We talked once, about how much we loved our fathers--"

"Don't compare me to your Death Eater father!" James snapped. "We have nothing in common!"

"He told me that he was happy to be living with Sirius, but that he could never forget you or his mother," Dylan said. "Even though he was only a baby at the time, he still remembers how the two of you fought to protect him from Voldemort. He knows that you sacrificed your lives to save him; he could never turn against you. Just because he loves Sirius doesn't mean that he loves you any less."

"I said, shut up!" James shouted, barely able to think straight between the double assault of Dylan's arguments and Rabastan's silent screams inside his head.

"Even if the Professors do agree to your demands, what do you intend to do when you meet Harry?" Dylan asked in a reasonable voice. "Do you think that he'll be happy that you've kidnapped one of his friends?"

Dylan's questions touched a nerve in James, probably because he had just been asking himself the same thing. He didn't know what he would do when he saw Harry. It wasn't as if they could go off and live happily-ever-after together as father and son. Technically, this was Rabastan Lestrange's body, even if James was in control of it, and the Aurors would want to arrest the fugitive Death Eater and bring him to justice. Even if they could be convinced that Rabastan hadn't gone insane and wasn't trying to trick them, and that James really was in control of Rabastan's body, they wouldn't just let him be. They would consider it an abomination, and be determined to exorcise James's spirit from Rabastan's body and "set him free". 

And once, James would have been content to move on and join Lily, after he had cleared things up with Harry. But now, he was tempted by this unexpected second chance at life. After so many years of watching Harry from a distance, the thought of being able to actually physically hug his son brought tears to James's eyes. He wanted to catch up on all the years he had missed--to talk to his son, embrace him, watch him play Quidditch...

But at best, this would be a temporary reunion, a chance to patch things up with Harry before moving on into the afterlife. Otherwise, he would have to live as Rabastan had, a fugitive on the run from the Aurors. There was no way that he would subject Harry to that kind of life, and there was no point in living in Rabastan's body if he couldn't be with Harry. 

"Let me worry about that," James growled at Dylan. "And you had better hope for your sake that they do bring Harry to me."

Dylan lifted his head, staring James straight in the eye, and said in a level voice, "However angry you are at Professor Snape, I know that you won't kill me."

"And what makes you so sure of that?" James retorted.

"Maybe you didn't get along with Professor Snape," Dylan replied. "But the man that Remus knew, the one that befriended a werewolf and even became an Animagus to help him, would never kill a helpless prisoner, even the son of a Death Eater. My father may have been your enemy, but I have never done you any harm, Mr. Potter. I was not even born when you died."

Dylan's words awoke a twinge of guilt and uncertainty in James, while at the same time the reminder that he was dead, that his life had been stolen from him by Voldemort infuriated him. And without thinking, he backhanded the boy across the face and screamed, "I told you to shut up!"

The boy's face suddenly filled with shock and fear, a trickle of blood oozing from a small cut on his lower lip. James came to his senses and stared at Dylan in horror. He had struck a boy--the son of a Death Eater to be sure, but still, a boy near Harry's age. A year younger than Harry, if he remembered correctly. James didn't hurt children, even the children of Death Eaters. That wasn't the sort of thing that a Gryffindor did.

"I...I'm sorry," he stammered. "Lestrange must have taken over for an instant."

_Oh, and I suppose that it was me who cast the Cruciatus Curse on him, too?_ Rabastan asked sarcastically inside James's mind.

"Shut up!" James cried, clutching at his head, as Dylan flinched, squirming further back into the corner of the room. "Just shut up! I'm in charge here, not you!"

*** 

Dylan hastily scooted backwards--for all the good that would do. It wasn't as if James couldn't kill him anytime he wanted; he was essentially helpless with his arms and legs bound. Professor Snape did not like to talk about his past, but the few things that he had mentioned about James Potter did not paint a very flattering picture. Still, Remus had loved James, and said that he had been kind and compassionate, so Dylan had assumed that there was some good in James, and he had tried to remain calm and reason with his captor.

He had thought that if he could manage to reach the James that Sirius and Remus knew and loved, then everything would be all right. While he was frightened and confused, Dylan had not really believed that his life was in danger; James Potter was an idealistic Gryffindor, after all. He had saved Professor Snape from being killed by Remus in the Shrieking Shack even though they had been enemies.

But when James struck him without warning, Dylan realized that there was indeed a very good chance that he might be killed. And it reminded him that his body still ached from the Cruciatus Curse; it was also highly out of character for noble Gryffindors to cast Unforgivable Curses, too. Besides, being a Gryffindor was no proof of nobility--look at how Peter Pettigrew and Ian Williamson had turned out. The James Potter standing in front of him was not the same James Potter that Remus had known.

Dylan huddled in the corner as James ranted and raved, until he realized that James was shouting at Rabastan, not him. His tongue darted out and nervously licked away the droplets of blood from his split lip. He didn't really understand how James's spirit had come to possess Rabastan's body, but he did believe that it was James. Unfortunately, James didn't seem to be entirely in his right mind. He wasn't sure which of the two was more dangerous, Rabastan or James, but Dylan thought that he would have preferred to face Rabastan, even if he was a murderous Death Eater. 

Rabastan was dangerous, and he probably would want to kill Dylan for being a traitor, but at least Dylan was familiar with the Death Eaters and how they thought. Although the Lestranges had once been fanatically devoted to Voldemort's cause, by fleeing the scene of the final battle, Rabastan had proven that he valued his own life more than he valued that cause or even revenge on the Master who had betrayed him. Dylan might be able to cut a deal with Rabastan, convince the Death Eater to spare his life in exchange for helping him escape capture by the Aurors. 

A long shot, perhaps, but he would rather take his chances with a sane Death Eater than an insane spirit, even one who had once been a supposedly kind and noble Gryffindor. Especially when a spirit, unlike a live Rabastan, had no reason to fear death, and doubly so when that spirit seemed consumed by an irrational rage against Dylan's foster father. Why would James listen to Dylan when he wouldn't listen to his own best friend Remus? 

So for the moment, Dylan gave up trying to reason with James and struggled with his bonds, trying to loosen his hands just a little. If only he could reach his wand...his hands were bound behind his back, but he slowly and awkwardly tugged at the loose folds of his robe, trying to draw the pocket that held his wand closer to his fingers. He kept his back turned towards the wall, trying to shield his efforts from James's sight, but then James stopped ranting and frowned at him, his gaze focusing on Dylan once again.

"Ah yes," James said, "I almost forgot." And he searched Dylan's pockets and plucked out his wand. "I'll hold onto this for now." Dylan braced himself for another blow, or worse, a curse or hex, but James did not look angry; rather, he still seemed shaken. "Look," James said almost apologetically, "you won't be here for long. Just until they bring Harry to me, then I'll let you go." James's face brightened. "Once I talk to Harry, explain things to him, then everything will be all right."

Having learned his lesson, Dylan very carefully kept his mouth shut and did not point out that Sirius might not want to let Harry anywhere near a Death Eater, even one possessed by James Potter's spirit. He didn't ask James what he would do if Snape didn't bring Harry to him, nor did he ask what James intended to do after he "explained things" to Harry. Somehow he couldn't picture James tamely releasing his hold on Rabastan's body and passing on into the afterlife. But he just nodded silently, not wanting to provoke James into another violent rage. He had to trust that Snape and Remus would find a way to rescue him, and in the meantime, he would remain alert and watch for an opportunity to escape.


	10. Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape and his companions search for a way to defeat the Revenant.

Meanwhile, in the Snape Manor library, Snape and his companions continued to pore over various Necromancy and Dark Arts texts.

"'Necromancy is the art of death and darkness, and thus must be countered by the essence of life and light,'" Theodore said, reading from one of the texts. "It says that phoenix feathers and unicorn hair or horn can be used to create protective charms against Necromancy."

"Very good, Theo," Lupin said approvingly. "I can make a quick stop at Hogwarts; I'm sure that Fawkes will be willing to contribute a few feathers, and Hagrid can probably give us some unicorn hair."

"There's something in here about how to destroy Inferi," Blaise said hopefully, looking up from his book. "Do you think that might help?"

"What's an Inferi?" Harry asked.

"The term is plural," Snape replied impatiently. "They are corpses raised by Dark Magic, but they are like puppets under the control of the wizard who raised them. They have no consciousness or memory of their past lives as a Revenant does. The Dark Lord used them often during the first war, to devastating effect."

"Oh, they're like zombies," Harry said.

"A crude Muggle term," Snape disdainfully, "but essentially, yes. And no, Mr. Zabini, I do not think that would be helpful as Rabastan's body is still alive, even though James is dead."

"Of course," Blaise said sheepishly.

"But he might be on the right track," Prospero said thoughtfully. "If we could destroy Rabastan's body, then James would have nothing to possess."

Lupin frowned disapprovingly. "I think it would be better if we could capture him alive, but if there is no other choice..."

"But what would happen to my dad if Lestrange is killed?" Harry asked anxiously.

"I believe that his spirit would simply be cast out of Rabastan's body," Snape replied, looking a little uncertain. "It is rumored that a Revenant can possess and animate a dead corpse, though, so simply killing Rabastan might not be enough."

"But if we could destroy his body completely, perhaps incinerate it--" Theodore said eagerly, as Harry looked a little queasy.

"Then James would have no physical vessel to possess," Snape finished. "However, his spirit would not be destroyed. He would be less dangerous without a body, but even disembodied, a spirit can still find ways to meddle in the mortal world. Not to mention that eventually he might be able to find a way to to possess someone else. I would not feel safe with Potter's spirit at large; we must find some way to banish him completely."

"I've found a few exorcism spells," Branwen said. "They aren't specifically intended for a Revenant, though. The stronger the will of the spirit, the harder it is to banish it, and the will of a wizard is much stronger than that of a normal human. Not to mention that James was incredibly stubborn and strong-willed, even as wizards go. The most effective way to get a spirit to move on is to convince it to do so willingly, to complete whatever unfinished business it was that kept the spirit bound to the mortal world in the first place. For example, there are stories of the spirits of murder victims lingering on, then vanishing when their killers are finally brought to justice."

"What James wants is revenge against me," Snape said sourly. "And I'd rather not get killed, if it's all the same to you."

"Do you think we could trick James into moving on?" Blaise asked doubtfully. "Perhaps have Harry and Professor Snape stage a duel where Harry pretends to kill the Professor?"

"James Potter might not have been very bright," Selima said dryly, "but I don't think that he's that stupid."

"He wasn't stupid," Sirius said, glaring at Selima. "Just stubborn and narrow-minded." He sighed, and the anger drained out of his face. "Like I used to be. Maybe I can reason with him somehow..."

"I think that I have to convince my dad that he's wrong about me turning against him," Harry said earnestly. "I have to persuade him to move on. That's the only way."

"Hmm..." Snape said as he read a passage in a Necromancy text.

"What is it, Severus?" Lupin asked.

"I think that Mr. Potter is indeed the one who will have to persuade James Potter to move on--willingly or unwillingly," Snape replied. "This book states that the blood relative of a Revenant is able to combat it more effectively than someone who shares no blood ties with the spirit. There's a story here about a young witch who was able to banish the spirit of an ancestor who had become a Revenant. It is hearsay, though..."

"Does it say how she banished him, Father?" Theodore asked eagerly.

"Yes, she used a very powerful exorcism spell," Snape said. "It's even recorded in this book--a rather long and complicated Latin incantation, but I think that Potter junior should be able to memorize it if he studies it carefully."

"That's great!" Theodore said, sounding relieved.

"Let me see the incantation, then," Harry said, trying not to take offense at the disparaging tone of Snape's voice.

"The problem is," Snape continued, "that the Revenant must be bound within a Circle of Power for the incantation to work."

"A circle of what?" Harry asked.

Snape opened his mouth, but before he could make another sarcastic remark, Lupin quickly explained, "It's something like the protective circles that you use in Summoning spells. It's a circle of magical runes that keeps whatever's inside it confined and unable to move beyond the circle."

"Unfortunately, I doubt that James will hold still while we draw the circle around him," Snape said dryly. "If we knew where he was planning to meet us, we could draw the circle in advance and attempt to lure him into it, as the witch in this story did. However, since we don't know where the exchange of hostages will take place, that will probably not be possible. We'll have to find a way to immobilize James first."

"With so many of us against just one of him, we would normally be able to take him easily--if he didn't have Dylan as a hostage," Branwen said.

"We must find a way to free Dylan before we can engage in combat with James," Lupin said unhappily. "I'm sure he knows that, and I doubt that he'll give up his hostage without a fight."

Harry was suddenly struck by an idea. "What about my Invisibility Cloak?" he asked excitedly. "One of you could use it to sneak up on James...on Dad...while the rest of us distract him! You could free Dylan, and then we could stun my dad without hurting him, and I could explain things to him, and maybe he would move on willingly without my needing to cast the exorcism spell."

"A bit overoptimistic, Potter," Snape said skeptically. "But I'll concede that your idea about the cloak is a good one."

"I'll still memorize the spell, just in case," Harry assured him. "But I hope that we won't need it."

"We'll have to decide which of us should use the cloak," Lupin said. "James will obviously be suspicious if you and I aren't there, Severus, and I'm sure that he expects Sirius to be there as well..."

"I could do it," Theodore instantly volunteered. "He probably won't expect me to be there."

"That's because you won't be," Snape said sternly. "You're going to remain here at Snape Manor where it's safe."

"But Dylan's my brother!" Theodore protested.

"Yes, and I don't want both of my sons being put in danger!" Snape retorted.

Prospero cleared his throat and interrupted, "Perhaps I could assist you, then, Severus."

"Or I," Branwen said.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea, Lady Branwen," Selima said, frowning. "You're pregnant, aren't you? Dark Magic could have a harmful effect on the baby in your womb. I know that you are a formidable mage, but if one stray spell struck you...there are tales of babies being born twisted and deformed because their mothers were the victims of Dark curses..."

Branwen turned pale and laid her hands on her stomach, a look of mingled fear and anger and frustration spreading across her face. "Then--"

"You can stay here and keep Theodore company," Snape said with an ironic smile. "I'm sorry, Branwen. I would love to have your help, but it's not worth the risk."

Harry gave his stepmother a sympathetic look, but he couldn't help but feel that there was a bit of poetic justice in this, as he remembered how many times he had been told to stay behind or not ask questions because it was "too dangerous".

She must have picked up on his thoughts, because she smiled at him ruefully and sighed, "Well, now I know how you must have felt, Harry," and Harry smiled back at her, a little guiltily.

"I would feel better knowing that you will be here to protect Theodore," Selima said tactfully. "I don't think that Potter will try to attack the Manor, but one never knows."

"Mother, perhaps you should stay behind as well," Snape said.

"No," Selima said, quietly but firmly. "The Revenant is not to be underestimated. You'll need all the help you can get, and Dylan is kin."

Snape was a little surprised. There were no blood ties between Dylan and Selima, but she had grown fond of him, and it seemed that she had decided to accept him as family. "Is that why you let the mutt stay?" he asked, glancing down at Cabal, who wagged his tail.

"I don't approve of having pets in the Manor," Selima replied, sighing a little. "Except for the owls, of course. But the dog was wounded in defense of your foster son, Severus, so he has earned his place here." Lupin grinned widely in spite of his worry, and Snape gave him a faint smile in return.

"Very well, then," Snape said. "Mother shall accompany myself, Lupin, Black, and Potter. And Prospero, if you are willing--"

"Of course," Prospero said, bowing his head.

"Then you can use the cloak to free Dylan, as you proposed," Snape continued. "I think that would be ideal, as I doubt that Potter senior will be expecting you to be involved."

"What about me?" Blaise asked.

"You will remain here with Theodore and Branwen," Snape said firmly.

"But--"

"The subject is not open to debate," Snape said in his most implacable Potions Master's voice.

Theodore reached out and took Blaise's hand. "I wish that I could go help Dylan, too," he said quietly. "But since I can't, please stay with me."

"All right," Blaise said reluctantly, but he looked up and gave his former teacher a surprisingly defiant look. "But we aren't children anymore, you know." To his surprise, Snape looked approving and a little amused rather than angry.

"Yes, I suppose I must remind myself that you will soon be one of my colleagues rather than my student," Snape said. "But indulge me this once, Zabini."

"It's not that we doubt your abilities, or Theo's," Lupin gently explained. "Perhaps it's selfish of us, but it will be easier for us if the two of you are not there. For Severus and I, Theo will always be our child no matter how old he is, and I'm sure that your grandfather feels much the same about you, Blaise. Perhaps we shouldn't, but if you came with us, we could not help but worry about you."

"It would be a distraction," Snape said gruffly. "Potter wouldn't be going either if we didn't need him."

"How sweet of you to be worried about Harry, Severus," Lupin cooed.

"Oh, shut up, Lupin."

Selima gave her son and his lover an annoyed look, then said to Blaise and Theodore, "There will be six of us to combat the Revenant. That should be more than enough."

"What about calling in the Aurors?" Harry asked.

"Well, technically we should notify them," Branwen admitted, "but..."

"If we show up with an army, Potter might get spooked and run, and take Dylan with him," Snape said. "Besides, I'm not sure that I trust the Ministry with my son's life. I have not been impressed with their efforts in the past."

"Well, not Fudge's former lackeys," Sirius agreed, "but maybe Tonks and Kingsley..."

"Most of these books are proscribed by the Ministry," Selima said, motioning to the Dark Arts and Necromancy texts scattered across the table. "The Aurors would be obligated to confiscate them at the very least, and perhaps to charge us with possessing prohibited items. And there is also the possibility that we may be required to use Dark Magic to combat the Revenant, which the Aurors are forbidden to use."

"Um..." Harry said uneasily, remembering that he was scheduled to start Auror training soon.

Branwen smiled at him. "You aren't an Auror yet, Harry," she said. "As these books and spells are being used in Dylan's defense, I think that it would be all right for you to overlook it this once."

"And for you to forget that these books exist once this is all over," Snape added, giving Harry a threatening look that seemed to suggest that he would be willing to speed the process along with an Obliviate spell if necessary. 

But Lupin just grinned and winked at Harry, and Sirius smiled and nodded slightly, so Harry asked innocently, "What books, Professor?"

Snape snorted, then set the Necromancy text he had been reading in front of Harry. "Study that incantation, Potter," he said curtly, and Harry obeyed.

"It might be wise to keep the Aurors in reserve, though," Lupin said gravely. "If...if we don't come back..."

"Remus," Theodore said, looking alarmed.

"Though I'm sure that everything will be all right," Lupin hastily added, but Theodore did not look reassured.

"I'll send Bane with you," Branwen said. "If it looks like things are not going well, he will alert me, and I will send the Aurors in."

"If things 'aren't going well,' then I'm coming after you!" Theodore said fiercely.

"You will do no such thing," Snape snapped. "You are the Snape heir, and it is your duty to preserve your life, that the Snape line might continue."

Theodore did not argue further, but it was obvious from the stubborn look in his eyes that he was not going to tamely stay put at home if the worst happened, and Snape just sighed in resignation.

"By the way, Professor," Harry asked Snape hesitantly. "Why is it that my father looks like himself when he's in Lestrange's body? Is it some kind of Transfiguration magic, or is it an illusion?"

"I don't really know," Snape admitted reluctantly. "When a spirit possesses a host, the host body begins to resemble that of the spirit's original body, to a greater or lesser degree. It's believed to be a manifestation of the spirit's will, so it is probably more of an illusion than an actual physical Transfiguration. But no one knows for certain, because the host body always reverts back to normal after the spirit is exorcised, and for obvious reasons, it's very difficult to examine the host body while the spirit is still possessing it."

"You know, that reminds me," Prospero said, frowning. "James Potter might be in control, but it's actually Lestrange's body that he's using. And if I am not mistaken, there is no blood relation between Rabastan and young Harry. Will that business about using a blood relative to combat the Revenant still apply?"

"I believe so," Snape replied.

"You 'believe so'?" Sirius asked with a scowl. "If we're putting Harry at risk, you ought to be damn certain about it, Snape!"

"I told you before, Black, there is very little reliable information about Revenants available, as none have been seen for hundreds of years!" Snape snapped.

"Sirius, it's okay," Harry said urgently, reaching out to place a hand on his godfather's arm, to both reassure and restrain him. "I have to come along anyway, remember, because my dad said he'd hurt Dylan unless they brought me to him. And...I want to help Dad as well as Dylan. I don't want him just to be exorcised and banished. If I can, I want to help him be at peace with himself before he moves on."

Sirius's eyes filled with tears and he said quietly, "I guess I can't argue with that." He hugged his godson tightly and whispered, "I'm very proud of you, Harry."

Lupin smiled at the pair tenderly, and Snape waited several moments before clearing his throat and saying sardonically, "This is all very touching, but if we could get back to work, please?"

Sirius released Harry, laughing a little shakily as he brushed the tears from his eyes. Harry smiled at Snape, then picked up the Necromancy text and resumed studying the incantation.

"Cheeky Gryffindor brat," Snape muttered under his breath, and Lupin leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.


	11. The Taste of Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dylan attempts to escape, and awakens the darker side of the Revenant.

After pacing around nervously and carrying on a one-sided (at least from Dylan's point of view) argument with Rabastan, James finally left the Shrieking Shack to deliver a message to Snape and Remus. Left alone, Dylan struggled desperately with his bonds, but the knots refused to loosen and he succeeded only in chafing his wrists. Dylan tried reciting charms to loosen the ropes that bound him, but they proved ineffective without his wand. He cursed under breath, wishing that he had the ability to work wandless magic like the Japanese shapeshifters...and then he cursed himself again for being an idiot. 

There was one type of wandless magic that most wizards could work--Apparition! It didn't require a wand or an incantation, simply focus and concentration. And the spell instantaneously moved the caster from one spot to another, so it shouldn't matter that he was bound--at least Dylan hoped not. He closed his eyes and concentrated very hard, picturing Remus's cottage in his mind, imagining it down to the smallest detail, from the faded, peeling paint on the walls to the threadbare upholstery on the couch. 

With all his might, he willed himself to move from "here" to "there"...but nothing happened. No cracking sound, no sudden stomach-wrenching feeling of disorientation, nothing. Disappointed, Dylan opened his eyes to find himself still inside the Shrieking Shack. He tried several more times to Disapparate, but his efforts were futile. Either he couldn't work the spell while bound, or it was too far a distance for him to Apparate, or more likely, the wards James had cast were preventing it.

If he was to escape, it would have to be by more mundane means. Dylan searched among the debris on the floor and found a piece of glass that had probably come from one of the broken windows, which had since been boarded up. Clutching it awkwardly with his fingers, he attempted to saw at the ropes binding his wrists, which was a rather difficult process, not just because his movement was limited but because he couldn't see what he was doing with his hands bound behind his back. 

He sawed away for several minutes, and perhaps he would have been able to cut through normal ropes, but the magical bindings seemed impervious, and the only things that Dylan managed to cut were his wrists and fingers when the glass shard slipped in his hands. It became harder to clutch the glass firmly as his fingers grew slippery with blood, and he wondered if he could use that to his advantage, to use the blood as lubrication to slip his wrists free of the ropes. 

It was worth a try, he decided, and he gave up trying to cut the ropes. Instead he dug the piece of glass deeply into his wrist, and was rewarded with a slow stream of warm blood. Encouraged, Dylan dropped the piece of glass and began struggling with his bonds again. Was it just his imagination, or did the ropes give just the slightest bit, the slickness of the blood causing the ropes to slide down his wrists more easily?

But then hope turned to despair as James walked into the room. His eyes widened in alarm as he caught sight of Dylan's bloody wrists. "Foolish boy!" he scolded. "Magical bindings can't be broken by normal means!" He took out his wand and conjured up some bandages, then knelt down to tend to Dylan's wounds. "You didn't have to do this; I told you that I would free you after they brought Harry to me, didn't I? A Gryffindor always keeps his word."

"It's not that I doubt your word, Mr. Potter," Dylan lied. "But Remus and the Professor must be worried about me. It's my duty to free myself and get back to them if I can."

"You'll be back with them soon enough," James said gruffly. "So don't do anything stupid. Moony is so softhearted that I'm sure he'd cry if anything happened to you." His voice turned bitter and resentful. "And then he'd really never forgive me."

"Mr. Potter..." Dylan said hesitantly, wanting to reason with James, yet afraid that he might provoke the man further. From an early age, he had learned to hide his true feelings and present a smiling, serene face to the world. With his father dead and his mother disowned and disgraced, Dylan had been left with little to rely on but his looks and his charm, but he had used them to full advantage. He had been proud of his ability to charm and manipulate people, but James seemed to be immune to it. That was not really surprising, Dylan supposed, since whenever James looked at him he must see his old enemy Evan Rosier, but it made things more difficult.

"At least the cuts seem to be shallow..." James started to say, then his voice trailed off.

"Mr. Potter?" Dylan asked, twisting around slightly so he could look at James. Harry's father was staring in fascination at Dylan's bloody wrists, and his tongue darted out to lick his lips as a flash of red gleamed in his hazel eyes for just a moment. Dylan didn't know a great deal about Necromancy, but he knew that undead spirits were often summoned into this world with blood, and some of them required fresh doses of it at regular intervals to maintain their artificial life. Most spirits could not help but hunger at the sight of blood, because it was a symbol of the life that they craved for, which had been denied to them. As if in a trance, James slowly lowered his mouth and licked at the blood covering Dylan's wrists.

Dylan cried out in fear and pulled away from James, who stared at him blankly for a moment, then seemed to snap out of his trance, a look of horror filling his eyes as he realized what he had done.

James grabbed Dylan's arm and roughly hauled him to his feet. "Come on," he snapped. "You're about to get your wish--you're going to be reunited with Moony and his precious Potions Master."

*** 

James grabbed Dylan and hauled him to his feet, a bit more roughly than he'd intended, the taste of the blood in his mouth causing his heart to pound in fear--no, not so much the blood itself, but the craving that it had awakened in him. James knew the dangers of Dark spells: there was always a hidden cost to them, and the price for raising the dead was usually paid in blood. Blood to resurrect a dead body or spirit, and blood to sustain it.

Even magic had its limits; sorcery could not be used to create new life, but it could be used to steal the life-force of one person and give it to another. That was the same principle behind the Blood Healing spell that Snape had used to save Sirius, the same principle behind all forms of Blood Magic, as a matter of fact. It was the same type of magic that Voldemort had used to increase his power to the point where he was able to cheat death--at least temporarily. James suddenly remembered Death's kind but implacable eyes; no one could cheat Death or evade her grasp forever.

Even though James now possessed a relatively young and healthy body, it was not really his, and although he was not familiar with the type of Necromancy that Rabastan had used to summon him, he instinctively realized that he was living on borrowed time and that his hold over Rabastan would eventually weaken unless he did something to strengthen it. And just as instinctively, he knew what he needed to sustain his borrowed life. He could still taste Dylan's blood in his mouth, sweet and salty, full of the essence of youth and vitality. Dylan was young and passionate, and a powerful wizard to boot; his blood could sustain James for a very long time...

James had a sudden vision of the boy lying on the floor, his throat cut and his silver-gray eyes staring up at the ceiling, lifeless and unseeing. And suddenly James dropped to his knees and vomited, his stomach churning with revulsion not just at the vision, but at the part of him that was filled with hunger and excitement by it.

"Mi...Mister Potter?" Dylan asked nervously. "Are you all right?"

 _Intoxicating, isn't it?_ Rabastan taunted silently. _The taste of blood, I mean. I felt the same way when I made my first kill as a Death Eater. Except that I wasn't as squeamish as you are, Potter._

"Oh, shut up!" James snarled, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

"I'm sorry," Dylan said, flinching.

"I wasn't talking to you!" James shouted, and the boy flinched again. "Oh, never mind! Let's go!" 

As James grabbed Dylan's arm, Rabastan protested, _This is suicide, Potter! Do you really think that Snape is going to show up without any backup? Do you really think that he'll just roll over for you like a tame dog?_

"What do you care?" James snapped. "Don't you want your old buddy Snape to defeat me?"

 _I want you out of my head, but I don't want to get killed in the process!_ Rabastan wailed.

James laughed, his voice cold and filled with malice, and although he didn't realize it, his eyes gleamed red again. "Of course I expect treachery from a Slytherin snake! But let him do his worst...I'm stronger than I used to be." He laughed again. "And I do have one distinct advantage over him: I am not afraid to die because I am already dead! Everything and everyone I loved was taken from me--I have nothing left to lose!"

*** 

Dylan knew that a man who had nothing left to lose was very dangerous indeed. And staring into James Potter's reddened, maddened eyes, he was suddenly very afraid--not so much for himself, but for Professor Snape. The sane James Potter that Remus had known would not kill a man in cold blood, not even a former Death Eater, but the vengeful spirit standing before him might. If Snape didn't bring Harry to him as promised, Dylan had no doubt that James would try to kill him. And even if he did bring Harry, James was so crazed with anger that he might attack him anyway.

Hogwarts taught that Dark Magic was forbidden, not just because the spells inflicted harm and pain, but because its very essence twisted and corrupted the person who cast them. Dylan had not believed it; his mother had taught him that Dark Magic was simply a tool to be used for his own gain, but now he began to wonder if she had been wrong. He could see the darkness growing and spreading inside James, and he began to struggle with his captor. As long as James held him hostage, Snape would have to hold back, and that might well end up getting him killed. Dylan would rather die than be responsible for the death of the man who had been a father to him in all but name.

"What are you doing?" James cried as Dylan struggled to pull out of his grasp. "I'm taking you to Snape; I thought that's what you wanted!"

"I won't let you kill my father!" Dylan screamed.

"What are you talking about, you crazy brat?" James shouted, finding it difficult to hold onto the struggling boy even though his limbs were bound. "Your father's already dead, and I'm not the one who killed him!"

"I meant the Professor!" Dylan shouted, and bit down hard when James's arm got within reach of his mouth.

James cried out in pain and shoved Dylan away from him; Dylan fell to the floor, but kicked out with his legs, causing James to stumble.

"Enough of this!" James snarled, and whipped out his wand. "Imperio!"

Paralyzed by the spell, Dylan was unable to do anything except stare up at James helplessly, his gray eyes filled with frustration and anger. This was now the second time that James had used an Unforgivable Curse on him. "You aren't the man that Remus knew," he whispered contemptuously. 

"Shut up!" James said, and Dylan found himself unable to speak, although his eyes conveyed his scorn quite eloquently. "Get up," James said, and against his will, Dylan felt his body trying to obey although it was difficult with his limbs bound. James impatiently gestured with his wand, and the ropes binding Dylan's legs vanished. Dylan rose to his feet as James helped pull him up by his arm. "Come with me," James said curtly, and Dylan followed obediently, even as his mind was screaming in protest; he was beginning to understand how Rabastan must feel.

For just a moment, a frightened and despairing Rabastan seemed to look out through James's eyes, and Dylan gave him an accusing look, thinking, _This is all your fault!_

Rabastan seemed to understand his unspoken words, because he just gave Dylan a miserable look that said, _I know._

And then Rabastan's presence vanished, and James said impatiently, "Come along, Dylan; I thought you were eager to be reunited with your 'father'."

 _I'm sorry, Professor,_ Dylan said silently as he followed James.


	12. The Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape and his allies confront James.

A sudden gust of wind swept through the Snape Manor library, causing Cabal to bark excitedly. The wind swirled around Branwen affectionately, ruffling Bane's feathers as the raven squawked indignantly. "Thank you," Branwen murmured, and the gust of wind vanished as suddenly as it had appeared, after dropping a piece of paper into Branwen's hands.

Branwen unfolded the paper as Bane smoothed down his feathers, looking rather peeved. "It's from James," she said. "He left it at your cottage, Remus, and the elemental brought it to me. It says for you and Severus to bring Harry to the Potter estate, to the place where the family mansion once stood. And it says, 'No Aurors, no tricks.'"

"I don't need the help of the Aurors to send James Potter back to Hell," Snape snarled. "Come on, let's go."

Harry looked pale and worried, but he rose to his feet without protest. "Do you have the incantation memorized?" Lupin asked kindly. Harry nodded, but Lupin said, "Well, why don't you bring it along with you, just in case?" He tapped the book with his wand and it shrunk down in size until it could fit in Harry's palm, and the boy picked it up and slipped it into his pocket.

"Here, sir," Harry said, handing Prospero the Invisibility Cloak, which he had fetched from his room at Grimmauld Place.

"I will take good care of it, Harry," Prospero promised solemnly, then donned the cloak and vanished from sight. 

"Go with them, Bane," Branwen said, and the raven flew over and landed on Snape's shoulder.

"Father, Remus...please be careful," Theodore said anxiously.

"We will, Theo," Lupin promised, smiling at him reassuringly.

Snape just nodded and said quietly, "We will return with Dylan. I give you my word as a Snape." 

As he and his companions Disapparated, Branwen whispered, "Good luck."

*** 

"Potter?" Snape called, as they made their way through the ruins of the Potter mansion. "Where are you? We have brought Harry as you ordered; now it's time for you to keep up your end of the bargain." They all had their wands out and were looking around cautiously, in case James decided to ambush them.

"I'm here," James said, suddenly stepping into view from behind a pile of rubble. His wand was out as well, and he held Dylan in front of him like a shield. "You've brought company, I see."

"Why Prongs, surely you didn't expect me to pass up the opportunity to see an old friend?" Sirius said lightly, but he couldn't hide the worry in his eyes.

"Nice to see you again, Padfoot," James said with an ironic smile. "But I wasn't expecting you, Mrs. Snape."

"That's 'Lady Snape' to you, Lord Potter," Selima retorted coolly. "I am here because Dylan is my son's foster son, and therefore kin to the Snapes." Dylan smiled a little at her words, but said nothing.

"I am 'Lord Potter' only because your son's friends killed my entire family, except for Harry," James said bitterly. "But if you want to stay for the party, 'Lady' Snape, be my guest." He emphasized the title "Lady" with a touch of sarcasm. "The more the merrier. But just to even things out, why don't you put away your wands? It's five of you against one of me, after all." When they hesitated, James pointed his wand at Dylan. "Do it," he said, his voice sharpening slightly. 

Snape reluctantly pocketed his wand, and the others followed suit. He could only hope that Prospero was sneaking up on Potter as they had planned; he tried very hard not to look for shifting grass or other signs that might give away Prospero's presence. Instead, he tried to distract James by saying, "We've brought your son, Potter. Now let Dylan go." 

"Dad..." Harry whispered.

A look of intense longing filled James's face as he turned towards Harry, but he pointed his wand at his son. Lupin, Snape, and Sirius looked alarmed and started to reach for their wands, but relaxed slightly when all James said was, "Finite Incantatum!" and "Aperio Veritas!" He was obviously just making sure that it really was Harry, and not someone else in disguise. There was no illusion to dispel, of course, so Harry's form did not change, but a golden glow of light appeared on his chest where the topaz charm Branwen had made him rested beneath his shirt, and mingled strands of orange and silver light on his wrist, where he was wearing another charm, a bracelet woven from phoenix feathers and unicorn hair. The pocket that held his wand also started glowing.

"Sorry, Harry," James said apologetically. "I had to make sure it was really you." Then he smiled, a little bitterly. "Wearing protective charms, I see. A general charm against hostile magic, it looks like, and another against Necromancy." He gave his old friends an accusing look. "Did you really think that I would hurt my own son, Moony, Padfoot?"

"I am taking no chances with Harry's safety," Sirius said firmly. "The James that I knew would not harm his son, but the influence of Dark Magic can make people do things that they normally would not."

James flinched slightly, looking guilty and then angry, and Lupin quickly said, "You would not hurt Harry, of course, James, but we could not take the chance that Lestrange might regain control, however briefly, and--"

"Don't patronize me, Moony!" James snapped. "I know that the two of you don't trust me anymore."

Harry stepped forward and tried to interrupt them before James lost his temper further. "Dad, please don't be mad at them. They're just worried about me. You have to admit, it's kind of...unexpected, you coming back after everyone thought you were...um..." Harry paused, suddenly realizing that James might not appreciate being reminded of his death. He coughed to cover up the slip and hastily continued, "None of us knew what to think. But...I'm glad you're here. I'm glad that I have the chance to meet you, when I thought I never would." And as he spoke those words, he realized that he really meant them, and smiled tremulously at his father.

James's expression softened, and his eyes filled with tears. "Harry," he whispered in a hoarse voice. "I'm sorry that I wasn't able to be there for you when you were growing up. But even though you didn't know I was there, you were never alone. I was watching over you the whole time."

"I know that now," Harry said softly, his eyes tearing up as well. "I'm here, Dad. You don't need to hold Dylan any longer."

When James hesitated, Lupin said urgently, "Please, James, you said that you would return Dylan to us if we brought Harry to you."

"Is that how little you think of Harry?" James said viciously. "You obviously think I'm dangerous, but you'd hand Harry over to me without a second thought, just to get your Slytherin brat back!"

"That's not true!" Harry protested before Lupin could reply. "Remus and Sirius and even Professor Snape didn't want to put me in danger. I'm the one who insisted on coming! I trust you, Dad. I know that you won't hurt me." James's anger seemed to ease, and Harry moved a few steps closer to him. "So please let Dylan go." 

But James still hesitated. "If I let him go, they'll attack me," he said, motioning towards Snape and the others.

"Not if I'm with you," Harry said. "Please, Dad...Dylan is a friend of mine. He's not a Death Eater, I promise. Please let him go."

James began to look suspicious and a little hurt. "Did you really come to meet me, or are you just here to help free Rosier?"

"Of course I want to help Dylan, but I'm here for you, Dad!" Harry cried. "How can I not want to meet my own father?!"

Meanwhile, Snape was looking Dylan over carefully. He was standing calm and still--a little too much so. As a Death Eater, he had seen the Imperius Curse used many times, and when he looked more closely into his son's eyes, he recognized the trapped, frantic look of an Imperius victim. Physically, at least, though, the boy appeared to be unharmed...and then Snape caught sight of the dried blood on Dylan's hands and wrists.

"What have you done to him, Potter?!" Snape snarled. "Is this the work of a noble Gryffindor, to harm a bound and helpless hostage?"

"I didn't hurt him!" James retorted. "He did it to himself!"

Snape still looked furious, and Lupin had to grab his arm to prevent him from grabbing his wand and attacking James. Dylan flashed a pleading look at James, who hesitated for a moment, then said, "You may speak."

Released from the part of the curse that had forcibly kept him silent, Dylan said, "Professor, I'm all right, he's not lying! He left me alone for a little while when he went to deliver the message to you, and I found some broken glass and tried to cut the ropes with it, but it slipped and I cut myself by accident. Really, I'm all right. It's just a few shallow cuts."

Snape calmed down, but shouted, "Then keep your word and let him go, Potter!"

"Dad, let him go," Harry pleaded. "A Gryffindor always keeps his word, isn't that right?"

"Snape has turned you against me!" James shouted accusingly, and his eyes seemed to glow red for a brief moment, but it was gone so quickly that Harry wondered whether it was merely some sort of trick of the light--the sun hitting James's eyes at an odd angle, perhaps.

"Dad, that's not true!" Harry protested.

James was never exactly sure what alerted him to the presence of someone behind him. A soft, barely perceptible rustle in the tall grass, perhaps, or maybe the senses of a Revenant were more acute than those of a normal human. But whatever the reason, he whirled around just as a dark-haired wizard appeared out of nowhere and shouted, "Stupefy!"

James managed to keep Dylan in front of him, so that the boy absorbed the full force of the spell without any of it touching James. As Dylan's body went limp, James pointed his wand at the strange wizard, and a jet of red light shot out towards him. The wizard tried to dodge the spell, but he wasn't quick enough; the red light caught him in the shoulder and sent him flying back several feet. He landed heavily on the ground, groaning in pain.

"Prospero!" Selima cried.

"Do you think I wasn't expecting a sneak attack from a cowardly Slytherin, Snape?" James sneered.

"You're the coward, Potter, hiding behind a child!" Snape shouted. "But then, you always were a coward, weren't you? You never dared face me one-on-one when we were in school; you always had to have Black and Pettigrew backing you up!"

"SHUT UP!" James shouted, and this time his eyes distinctly flashed red. 

"Wha...what the hell was that?" Sirius whispered.

"I believe it's a sign that he's losing control of himself," Selima whispered back. "If it continues, he will eventually be completely consumed with rage, and he will lose his humanity and truly become one of the undead."

Sirius looked horrified. "You never mentioned before that James could lose his soul!" he hissed accusingly.

"That is always a danger when dealing with Dark Magic, especially Necromancy," Selima retorted. "As a former Auror, you should already have known that. And I didn't say anything about it during our strategy session because I thought it might unnerve young Mr. Potter and distract him from doing what needs to be done."

Meanwhile, James dropped Dylan, letting his unconscious body fall to the ground, and hurled a curse at Snape as Bane spread his wings and shrieked in outrage; Snape lunged to one side to try to avoid it. Knowing there was not enough time to cast a counter-curse, Lupin physically threw himself in front of Snape to act as a human shield. Seeing the danger to Snape, Selima and Sirius broke off their argument and reached for their wands. But it was Harry who rushed forward and actually stopped the curse with a Shield Charm, shouting, "Protego!"

James stared at his son, a look of heartbroken betrayal on his face. "Harry," he whispered. "You really have turned against me. My own son..."

"Dad--" Harry said in a pleading tone of voice.

"He's trying to protect you, James, you stubborn git!" Sirius shouted, striding forward to stand beside his godson. "He's trying to stop you from doing something that you'll regret later when you're in your right mind, the way he stopped me and Moony from killing Wormtail in the Shrieking Shack! If you've been watching over Harry all this time, you must have seen that, right? Do you think he would want his dad to become a murderer?!"

"You've betrayed me, too, Sirius!" James ranted, his eyes gleaming red again. "You've sided with my enemies, tried to steal my son from me..."

"No, Dad, you're wrong!" Harry shouted desperately. "I've never stopped loving you, I swear! How could I ever forget you or Mum when you gave your lives to save me? And you're wrong about Professor Snape, too! We don't always get along, but he's been loyal to the Order, and he's protected me all these years to repay the debt he owed you for saving his life. And..." Harry hesitated, thinking of the things that Lupin had told him, and the way that Snape had protected the Slytherins during the final battle. "And maybe for my own sake, too, even though he doesn't really like me, and even though he's hated me at times. Because I'm his student, and he worked hard to protect all his students during the war. And it was because of his Occlumency lessons that I was able to defeat Voldemort."

Snape looked startled and embarrassed by Harry's words, while James grew even more infuriated. "You've been brainwashed by that Slytherin bastard!" he screamed.

"Dad, no, please listen to me!" Harry begged.

"I saw what you saw in the Pensieve!" James continued, as if he hadn't heard Harry, then he glared at Lupin and Sirius. "Everyone made such a big deal about what I did to poor little Snivellus! But you never saw all the times that he hexed me! He'd sneak up and ambush me from behind; just what you'd expect from a slimy Slytherin snake..."

"Like you did to him, you mean?" Harry asked coldly. "It's one thing to defend yourself if someone attacks you, but Snape wasn't bothering you that day. You weren't even doing it to get revenge for the other times that he hexed you. You did it for fun, just because you were bored!"

"It was just a joke!" James protested. "And it was only Snape; who cares if we had a little fun at Snivelly's expense?"

"Mum cared!" Harry shouted. "And Remus cared! And...I care!"

"You care about him?!" James shouted back at his son. "After the way he's treated you all these years?"

"It has nothing to do with whether I like Snape or not!" Harry retorted. "In fact, I hated him for most of the time I was at Hogwarts! But nobody deserves to be treated that way, and believe me, I know how it feels! Dudley bullied me the entire time I was growing up, until I became a wizard and learned how to defend myself with magic!"

Snape muttered, "Damn it, Potter, you're supposed to be calming him down, not angering him further!" 

He sighed and shook his head; he should have known that it would be a mistake to bring the hot-tempered Gryffindor boy along with them. Harry Potter might be the most powerful wizard to come along since Voldemort (not that Snape would ever admit that to the boy's face), but he had no control over his emotions, which was what had made him such a bad Occlumency student. What Harry ought to be doing was agreeing with his father that yes, Snivellus was a slimy little snake who deserved everything that James had done to him--even if that meant lying through his teeth. The important thing was to pacify and disarm James, not to take the moral high ground. Harry's sincere and impassioned argument would only serve to strengthen James's belief that Snape had brainwashed him.

Meanwhile, Selima remained cool-headed and sensible as always, despite her concern for her wounded former lover. Taking out the main threat, the Revenant, would be of much more help to Prospero than rushing to his side like an hysterical schoolgirl. She took advantage of the fact that James's attention was focused on his son at the moment, and very slowly and quietly circled around behind him, preparing to attack. 

She hesitated for a moment, trying to decide which spell would be most effective. Thus far, stunning spells had proven to be ineffective, partly because James had been using Dylan as a shield, but she wondered if it might also have something to do with the nature of the Revenant. According to Severus's account of their first confrontation, he and Lupin had hit James simultaneously with a Stupefy spell and an Aperio Veritas spell, and Rabastan Lestrange had briefly emerged and resumed his true form. 

They had assumed that this was due to the second spell, which caused a person disguised by enchantments to reveal their true form, but now Selima wondered whether it might have been at least partly due to the Stupefy spell. Perhaps it had knocked James unconscious for a moment, allowing Rabastan to take over his own body again. And if that was true, then a stunning spell was of limited use, since they would still have to face a Death Eater in combat even if they succeeded in stunning James. Or perhaps the Revenant was simply more resistant to magic than a normal human.

Selima made her choice; she pointed her wand at James's back and cried, "Crucio!" It was one of the strongest curses that existed, just short of the Killing Curse, and since she was inflicting pain on the physical body of the Revenant, in theory it shouldn't matter whether James or Rabastan was in control of its mind. And hopefully it would be distracted by the pain long enough for them to capture and bind it.

James screamed, and Harry rushed forward shouting, "Dad!"

Selima, however, had underestimated the Revenant's strength when she assumed that the Cruciatus Curse would incapacitate James. His face was contorted in a grimace of pain and rage, and his arm was shaking as he raised his wand, but he managed to fire off a spell at her. "Crucio," he whispered, and Selima dropped to her knees, screaming in pain. James smiled in bitter satisfaction, muttering, "So how does it feel to be on the receiving end, you bitch?"

"Mother!" Snape cried. It wasn't as if he hadn't fantasized about doing the same thing himself more than once as a child, but it enraged him to see someone else, particularly his old enemy and rival, attacking a member of his family. He reacted more out of instinct than reason, lashing out with a spell that he had created himself specifically to attack the Marauders with during their long feud at Hogwarts. 

"Sectumsempra!" Snape shouted. James tried to dodge the spell but wasn't quick enough, and a long bloody gash opened up on his cheek. A thin stream of blood ran down his face, and James's tongue darted out to lick it when it touched the corner of his mouth.

At the same time, Prospero, who was still lying on the ground, weakly raised his wand and pointed it at James, saying, "Stupefy!"

James collapsed face-down on the ground as Harry reached his side, ignoring Lupin's cries of "Harry, no, stay back!"

Harry grasped James's shoulder and gently rolled him over, asking urgently, "Dad, are you all right?" But to his dismay, it was Rabastan Lestrange who grinned up at him.

"Daddy's taking a nap right now, Harry," Rabastan said, grabbing the boy's wrist. Then he touched his wand to Harry's chest and whispered, "How long I have waited for this moment...how sweet revenge is. Finally I have in my grasp the one who destroyed all our hopes and dreams. If it were not for you, boy, we would have won the first war, and the Death Eaters would now be ruling the wizarding world. My Master would not have fallen and been weakened by his defeat, and he would not have turned on his loyal servants and slain my brother and Bella." 

Harry started to raise his wand, but Rabastan waved his own wand with a flourish and cried "Sectumsempra!" Then Harry screamed, dropping his wand as dozens of shallow cuts slashed through his clothing and flesh, spraying blood all over himself and his captor. And although he was not yet aware of it, beneath his robes, a crack ran across the surface of the topaz protective charm that he wore. Rabastan laughed maliciously and said, "That's a very nice spell that you invented, Severus! Not as strong as a Crucio, but it has a certain artistry to it--crimson is such a lovely color, don't you think? I have to thank you for sharing it with your fellow Death Eaters."

"Let him go, Lestrange!" Sirius shouted furiously, pointing his wand at Rabastan.

"Back off, you blood traitor," Rabastan told him with a mocking smile, resting his wand against Harry's chest again. "I can take out little Harry with a Killing Curse before you can blink."

"But if you kill Potter junior, then you have no hostage, and there will be nothing to stop us from attacking you," Snape pointed out coolly. He gave Harry a disdainful look, then shrugged indifferently. "Besides, our late lamented Lord is dead, so the Boy Who Lived is expendable. The wizarding world will mourn his death, to be sure, and no doubt there will be a grand funeral in his honor, but the truth is that we don't really need him any longer."

"You...you're bluffing!" Rabastan said, but the fearful look in his eyes betrayed his doubt, and he wasn't at all reassured by the way Black was staring at Snape in horror and outrage.

"Snape, if you let Harry die, I'll kill you!" Sirius shouted, playing along with Snape's ploy. At least, he hoped that it was only a ploy; it didn't really require much acting for him to project an air of horror and anger. Snape might be on their side, but he still possessed a certain amount of Slytherin ruthlessness, and Slytherins were known for sacrificing the expendable in the name of self-preservation. He glared at Snape, thinking, _This had better be an act to fool Lestrange if you know what's good for you, Snape!_

"Oh, shut up, Black," Snape said, still in that cool voice. "You're not helping matters by getting emotional. For that matter, your godson wouldn't be in his current predicament if had shown a little more caution and not let his emotions overrule his common sense."

"Let Harry go, Rabastan," Lupin said quietly as Rabastan looked back and forth from Snape to Sirius uncertainly. "No matter what happens, you cannot escape."

"As Snape pointed out, if I lose Potter, I lose my bargaining chip," Rabastan retorted. 

"Then let us bargain, Rabastan," Snape said in a silky tone of voice. "If you kill Potter junior, then we'll have to kill you. And while I must admit that I find that scenario rather appealing, I'm afraid that it would also create a few complications that I would rather not have to deal with. For one thing, I'd have to kill or Obliviate Black as well, since he'd no doubt tell everyone that I let the golden boy be murdered. And of course my lover is a bit softhearted, and Mr. Potter's death would probably cause him distress."

"Then what do you propose, Snape?" Rabastan asked warily.

"You told me before that you would rather go to Azkaban than live as a prisoner inside your own body," Snape reminded him. "I know of a way to cast Potter's spirit out of your body, but I need Potter junior alive and well in order to do it. Only a blood relative is capable of casting the spell that will exorcise a Revenant." Actually, that was a bit of an exaggeration, but Snape was gambling that Rabastan wasn't aware of that.

Selima looked up, her body still trembling from the effects of the Cruciatus Curse. "You've only won a temporary reprieve, Rabastan. I believe that the Stupefy spell knocked James out and allowed you to regain control of your body, but he will awaken soon, and past experience has proven that you aren't strong enough to fight him off."

"I can't let you go free, Rabastan," Snape said. "You know that. But I will spare your life and free you from James if you surrender to us and let Harry go."

"But to spend the rest of my life in Azkaban..." Rabastan protested.

"Would you rather spend the rest of your life as a prisoner in your own body?" Snape shot back. "Although the sentence might be shorter than you think, because if Potter grows strong enough, he'll be able to snuff out your mind like a candle. Eventually he'll destroy your sanity and crush your consciousness, and then your body will truly be nothing but an empty shell for him to possess. But if you turn yourself in, I'll tell the Ministry how cooperative you were, and perhaps they'll reduce your sentence a little--you showed compassion and spared the life of the Savior of the Wizarding World, after all. And if you make a show of weeping and showing remorse and claiming that the Dark Lord and Malfoy misled you, perhaps they'll be merciful." He smiled slyly. "It worked for me, after all."

Rabastan hesitated, then finally released Harry and started to lower his wand. But he had waited too long, because he started screaming, "No! No, get out of my head, damn you! NOOOO!!!" And then his face and body seemed to melt and blur, and reshaped themselves into the form of James Potter once again.

"Traitors!" he shouted. "Traitors, all of you!"

"James, please, you have to listen to us," Lupin begged.

"You betrayed me!" James screamed. "You conspired against me with Snape! You took that Death Eater into your bed, Moony! And you, Padfoot--I thought you of all people would never betray me, but you went and married that Slytherin-loving demon woman--"

From his perch on Snape's shoulder, Bane screeched in anger.

"Branwen's on our side!" Sirius argued. "She was a member of the Order, you know that, Prongs! The Death Eaters tried to kill her, for Merlin's sake! You've got to fight the anger, Prongs! This isn't you--it's the Dark Magic trying to take over your mind!"

Snape didn't bother trying to reason with James. "Incarcerous!" he shouted, and thick ropes appeared out of thin air. They resembled snakes, moving as if they had a will of their own, flying at James and seeking to wrap themselves around him.

James lunged backwards, just barely evading the flying ropes, and he pointed his wand at them and shouted, "Incendio!" The ropes burst into flame and were charred into ash in a matter of seconds. 

Behind him, James heard someone shout, "Expelliarmus!" He managed to evade the spell, then turned and fired off a hex at the dark-haired wizard he had wounded earlier. It seemed that the man had recovered, at least enough to dodge the attack. As James cautiously backed away, he stumbled over something, and looked down to see an Invisibility Cloak lying on the ground--no, not just any cloak. It was the same cloak that James had owned, which had been passed down to his son.

"You lied to me," James whispered, staring at Harry accusingly. "You didn't come here because you wanted to meet me. You were working with Snape all along. You gave them your Invisibility Cloak-- _my_ Invisibility Cloak--so that they could ambush me! And Snape said something about needing a blood relative to exorcise me. He said he needed you to cast the spell. That was why you came along--to help them destroy me!"

"No, Dad, that's not true!" Harry pleaded.

"That is proof of your lies!" James shouted, pointing at the cloak.

"I gave Mr. Zabini the cloak, and yes, I learned the exorcism spell, but it wasn't to hurt you, it was to save you!" Harry shouted. "The Necromancy that Lestrange used to summon you is destroying you! It's like a Dementor, taking away your happy memories, only it leaves you with anger and hatred instead of despair! It's destroying the James that Sirius and Remus knew and loved! The James Potter who was a Marauder, who was a hero of the Order, would never have kidnapped his friend's son! He'd never have used an Unforgivable Curse on someone!"

"James, please," Lupin said, tears forming in his eyes. "If you can listen to Harry's words and think past the anger, you'll know that he's right. Come back to us, Prongs."

But James didn't seem to hear his words; his eyes were still fixed on Harry. "You believed Snape's lies about me," he whispered. "Trusted that snake over your own father. Or maybe it's Slytherin's cursed blood flowing through your veins that has poisoned your mind."

"Slytherin's blood?" a startled Prospero asked. "But Salazar's line died with the Dark Lord, and none of the Potters have ever been Slytherins..." He glanced at Selima, who just shrugged, looking equally bewildered.

Lupin, Snape, Sirius, and Harry knew the truth, of course--that during their final, fatal duel, Voldemort had revealed to Harry that he was Lily's real father, which meant that Harry was the last living descendant of Salazar Slytherin. But none of them had time to explain this to Prospero and Selima right now.

"I thought all that blood status stuff didn't matter to you," Harry said, a tear running down his face and mingling with the blood left from the cuts caused by the Sectumsempra spell. "Remus told me that you judged people by their actions, not by who they're related to."

James stared in fascination as the tear ran down Harry's cheek, cutting a faint trail through the blood smeared there. His tongue slowly moved across his lips and his eyes gleamed red.

Dylan, who was just beginning to recover from the Stupefy spell, saw this and knew what it meant. "Harry," he said, his voice weak but filled with urgency, "get away from him, now!"

Harry started to back away, but the numerous cuts all over his body were still bleeding, and his legs felt weak and wobbly beneath him. Before he could get more than a couple of steps away, James moved forward and reached out and stroked Harry's face. Harry stopped moving and smiled at James in relief, thinking that it was a fatherly caress and that James must be coming to his senses. But then James raised his fingers to his mouth and licked Harry's blood off of them, and the red glow in his eyes seemed to intensify.

"Even sweeter than Dylan's," James murmured dreamily. "So sweet, so rich...and filled with such power. No wonder Voldemort feared you so."

"D-Dad," Harry stammered nervously, his eyes filling with horror as he stared at his father.

James grinned at him, but it was utterly lacking any compassion or affection. Instead, it was the hungry grin of a predator regarding a tasty meal standing right in front of him. Ignoring his wounds and his wobbly legs, Harry began to stumble away from his father, who with that hungry smile and those glowing red eyes, no longer looked human at all.

"Let's see," James said musingly. "How did that spell go? Sectumsempra!" He slashed his wand through the air like a knife; Harry tried to dodge the spell, but wasn't quite quick enough. Another cut opened up on his face, and his effort to dodge the curse caused him to lose his balance and fall to the ground.

"Dad!" Harry shouted. "Dad, please don't--"

"Prongs, no!" Lupin screamed as James raised his wand again. He froze in place, paralyzed with horror for a few crucial seconds...

"HARRY!" Sirius screamed, running towards his godson and his best friend, frantically trying to decide whether he should try to attack James, cast a shield spell over Harry, or just physically throw his body in front of Harry. All these thoughts passed through his mind in a split second, and time seemed to slow for Sirius, as if in a dream where he was running in slow motion, his legs as heavy as lead. It would only take a few seconds for him to reach Harry, but he knew with a certainty that filled with him anguish and despair, that he would be too late.

Dylan watched helplessly from the ground, still too dazed and weak to move, while Bane launched himself into the air from Snape's shoulder, and Prospero and Selima raised their wands. But it was Snape who leapt forward and reached Harry first, throwing himself between father and son as James swept his wand through the air in a broad, slashing motion and shouted, "SECTUMSEMPRA!"

Snape cried out in pain and fell backwards, nearly landing on top of Harry, as a broad gash appeared across his torso, ripping through his robes, a fountain of blood spraying into the air as if he had just been slashed by an invisible sword.

"Professor!" a shocked and horrified Harry shouted.

The red faded from James's eyes, returning them to their natural hazel color. "Sn...Snape?" James stuttered, looking stunned and bewildered.

"SEVERUS!" Lupin screamed, running to Snape and dropping to his knees beside him, sobbing hysterically. "Severus, oh God, Severus, please don't die!"

Meanwhile, Bane screeched in anger and dove down at James, raking his claws across James's scalp. The wounds he caused were shallow, little more than bloody scratches, but they did serve to distract James as he cried out, as much in surprise as in pain. And the distraction enabled Prospero to hit him in the back with a Stupefy spell, which did not render him unconscious, but did cause him to drop to his knees. Selima took advantage of the opportunity to cast a Disarming Spell, and James's wand went flying out of his hand.

"Accio!" she cried, and the wand flew over to her hand; she pocketed it and went over to check on her son while Prospero stood guard over James. 

"If you so much as twitch, I'll cast a Killing Curse, and to hell with the consequences," Prospero said coldly. "The Ministry might even give me a medal for killing a Death Eater, since technically you are Rabastan Lestrange."

But James showed no sign of trying to fight or escape. He just sat there, whispering, "Dear God, what have I done?"

Snape's face was paler than usual, and his black eyes were glassy and unfocused. "That damned Potter," he muttered weakly. "Always turning my spells against me..."

"I think he's in shock," Sirius said, looking concerned. 

Meanwhile, Lupin had flung himself across Snape's chest, heedless of the fact that he was getting Snape's blood all over himself. "Severus, oh, Severus..." he sobbed.

"Somebody stop the werewolf from blubbering on me," Snape muttered, his voice still weak, but with a hint of its usual sarcasm. Then he coughed, spraying droplets of blood from his mouth, and Lupin began sobbing even harder.

"Harry," James said helplessly. "Harry, I'm so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen, I swear."

"I never hated you, Dad," Harry said quietly. "I was upset when I saw what you did to Snape--to Professor Snape--in the Pensieve, but I never hated you. It upset me because I saw you treating the Professor the same way Dudley and Draco used to treat me." James hung his head, and for the first time, he truly felt ashamed of how he had treated Snape when they were students. 

"And it shook me up, because I wanted to think of Professor Snape as a bad guy," Harry admitted, looking a bit shamefaced himself. "And it was harder to hate him after I saw that. Although I still managed it for awhile longer. So if it makes you feel any better, you're not the only one who was stubborn and immature."

"You must get it from me," James said, attempting a smile, although it came out rather lopsided. "Which would still make it my fault."

There was a loud cracking noise, and suddenly Branwen and Blaise appeared before them. Branwen was holding onto Blaise's arm, and Blaise looked a little queasy. "I don't think I've quite got the hang of this Apparation thing," he muttered.

"It's a little disorienting when someone else is Apparating you with them instead of doing it yourself," Branwen said soothingly. "And Apparating across long distances makes some people nauseous. You'll be fine with a little more practice, dear."

"Branwen?" Sirius asked, staring at his wife in surprise.

"Blaise knows some healing magic, and we've brought along some Healing Potions from Snape Manor," Branwen explained. "Blaise can get Severus stabilized while I bring help from St. Mungo's. I wasn't sure if it would be safe to move Severus in his condition." 

Before she left, she paused to give James a cold, steely glare, and he flushed with shame. "I'm sorry, Professor," he whispered meekly, like a chastened schoolboy.

"I am not the one you should be apologizing to, Mr. Potter," she told him, and then Disapparated before he could reply.

"Branwen, wait!" Sirius called, but she was already gone. He turned to Blaise, saying urgently, "Harry is wounded, too."

"I'm okay," Harry said instantly. When his godfather gave him a dubious look, Harry added, "It looks bad, but the cuts are all shallow. Please see to the Professor first, Blaise."

Blaise knelt down beside Snape and gently pulled Lupin away from him, saying, "Please let me tend the Professor, sir."

Lupin reluctantly moved back, sniffling a little as he wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "How did you know that Severus was wounded?" he asked.

"I'm not really sure myself," Blaise confessed with a puzzled smile. "We were just sitting in the library, when suddenly Professor Blackmore cried out. Theo and I asked her what was wrong, and she said that Bane told her that Professor Snape was hurt and needed our help. She Apparated me here because I've never been to the Potter estate before, so I couldn't Apparate on my own." 

He pulled a small potion bottle out of his pocket, unstoppered it, and held it to Snape's lips. "Please drink this, Professor." Snape obediently swallowed while Blaise poured the potion into his mouth, then Blaise took out his wand and cast a healing spell. His brow furrowed with concentration, and beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he ran his wand just above Snape's wound, and the edges of the wound slowly began to fuse together. When Blaise's hand started to tremble, he lowered his wand and sighed, sounding weary but relieved. The long gash had not closed up completely, but the bleeding had slowed to a trickle.

"Sorry, Professor," he said apologetically. "I'm not strong enough to heal you completely, but you should be all right until the team from St. Mungo's gets here."

"I'm grateful to you, Zabini," Snape said gruffly, still looking pale but sounding a little stronger. "And I suppose that I should also be grateful to Professor Chizuru for teaching that class in Healing last year. I will speak to Dumbledore about adding it to the curriculum permanently."

Blaise smiled. "I only have a minor Healing Gift and I didn't want to be a mediwizard, so I never thought I'd have to put it to use. But I guess those Healing lessons were a good idea, after all." He reached into his pocket again. "I do still have one more Healing Potion, sir." 

He offered it to Snape, but the Potions Master waved it off and said gruffly, "Give it to Potter." So Blaise gave the potion to Harry, who drank it down, and his cuts began to close up, although they did not vanish completely.

"Why?" James asked Snape quietly. "Why did you risk your life to save my son, after everything I've done to you? I know you hate me, and I thought you hated Harry as well..."

"Not everything is about you, Potter," Snape growled as Blaise and Lupin helped him to sit up.

"Severus," Lupin said gently.

A soft sigh hissed through Snape's lips, a resigned and irritated sound. "Duty," he said curtly. "Honor. Atonement."

"Atonement?" James asked hesitantly. "For what you did as a Death Eater?"

"Bloody hell, Potter, do you have to have everything spelled out for you?" Snape asked waspishly, then before James could respond, answered his own question with, "Well, you're a Gryffindor, so I suppose you do. Fine. Yes, to atone for being stupid enough to join the Death Eaters and serve the Master who killed his parents. And because I'd rather die than be indebted to the Potter family for the rest of my life--to you, for saving me from Lupin in the Shrieking Shack, although really, that shouldn't count, since it was Black's fault for luring me there in the first place." Sirius smiled sheepishly. 

"And to Potter junior," Snape continued, "for saving Dylan's life when the R.A. hexed him at the Quidditch match. And because, regardless of what you might think of me, I do take my duties as a teacher seriously. I wouldn't let one of the little brats be murdered just because I hated his father. And finally, Lupin would be upset if Potter junior died, and I'm not about to put up with him weeping and moping around the house all summer."

Lupin laughed, wrapped his arms around Snape, and kissed him on the cheek. "I love you, Severus," he said tenderly. Then he smiled at James. "Now do you finally believe me when I say that Severus is a man of honor? Now do you understand why I love him?"

"Knock it off, Lupin," Snape muttered, sounding rather embarrassed.

"Professor Snape protected me while I was at Hogwarts, even though he didn't like me," Harry told James. Looking thoughtful, he added, "And maybe, in a way, that's more noble than protecting someone you do like."

"Very insightful, Harry," Lupin said approvingly.

"Will wonders never cease?" Snape muttered sarcastically.

"The Professor protected all of us during the war," Dylan said. "All of his students."

Harry smiled. "Hermione always said he was okay."

Dylan grinned at him. "And everyone knows that Hermione is always right!"

James smiled weakly. "Yes, your friend is very wise, Harry. She reminds me a great deal of Lily."

"Excuse me," Prospero interrupted politely. "I'm very glad that Harry's father seems to have returned to his senses, but what do we do now? I fear that he will not be able to fight off the effects of the Necromancy indefinitely."

James's face turned pale. "Yes, you're right. I am no longer of the living, and the undead require blood to sustain life. Thank Merlin that Snape and...er..." 

"Prospero Zabini, at your service," Prospero said, bowing slightly.

"He's the grandfather of my classmate, Blaise," Harry explained, motioning towards the Slytherin boy. "And his younger sister, my housemate Allegra."

"Thank Merlin that Snape and Mr. Zabini stopped me before I killed you, Harry," James said, his face still pale. "I could never have lived with myself if..." Then he laughed bitterly. "But I am already dead, so I would have had to live with the knowledge that I killed my own son for all eternity." He turned to Prospero and said with sincere gratitude, "So thank you, Mr. Zabini." Then he caught sight of Prospero's wounded shoulder, where the curse he had cast had burned through the man's robes and down to the flesh beneath them. "And I'm sorry about...er...that." Prospero just nodded.

James turned towards Snape, obviously feeling ashamed and nervous. But he bowed his head humbly and said, "I'm sorry, Snape. For everything. And thank you. Thank you for saving Harry, and thank you for watching over him all these years. You may consider any debt that you owe me repaid. If anything, it is I that am in your debt now."

"If you wish to thank me, Potter," Snape said coolly, "you can go back to where you came from. Or rather--move on to where you should have gone seventeen years ago."

"Dad!" Harry cried, feeling a sudden wrench of pain in his heart at the thought of losing his father so soon after he'd found him, even though he had agreed earlier to persuade James to move on into the afterlife.

"He's right, Harry," James said regretfully. "I can't risk hurting you again. And besides, it's past time for me to move on. Your mother is waiting for me." He smiled ruefully. "And if I know Lily, she'll have a few choice words for me when I finally see her. She has quite a temper, your mother."

Harry smiled, his eyes filling with tears. "I know," he said. "I saw it in the Pensieve."

"At least you saw something good in there," James said, smiling back at his son.

"Dad, I'm sorry!" Harry said urgently, knowing that this was his last chance to set things straight with his father. "I never meant to hurt you, when I asked Sirius if I could call him 'Dad'. It wasn't that I hated you, or wanted to forget about you. It's just...I've never had a real family...and I just wanted..." The tears spilled from his eyes and he began to weep openly.

"The Headmaster told me once, 'Love is not like a pie,'" Snape suddenly blurted out, looking a little surprised by his own words.

"That's right," Lupin said, grinning at him affectionately. "It can't be divided. The amount of love in your heart never grows any smaller, no matter how many people you love." He smiled warmly at Dylan, who rose to his feet, a little shakily, and made his way over to Lupin and Snape. Lupin cast a quick charm to dispel the ropes binding his wrists.

"I love the Professor and Remus," Dylan said. "They're my parents now, but I still love my real mother and father. I'll never forget them."

"That's what you were trying to tell me in the Shrieking Shack, but I wouldn't listen," James said quietly. 

Sirius came to stand beside Harry, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We all love you, Prongs," he said. "Moony and Harry and I. I wanted to give Harry a home and make him feel like part of the family, but I'd never try to take your place. In fact, he asked if he could visit the estate so that he could learn more about you and Lily. Bran and I brought him here this morning so that he could feel closer to you." He gave James a slightly accusing look. "I would never have let him forget you, Prongs. You're my best friend. I love Harry as if he were my own son, but I'd always have kept your memory alive for him."

"I'm sorry, Padfoot," James whispered, bowing his head again. "I know that now. And Harry, please don't cry." He moved towards his son and reached out to touch his face. Prospero looked a little alarmed and raised his wand, but Lupin shook his head slightly and Prospero lowered his wand, although he still watched James very carefully.

"You don't have to apologize, Harry," James said. "It was my fault. I should have moved on once Voldemort was dead and you were safe, but I couldn't. I was ashamed that you'd seen me acting like such a git, but I couldn't admit to myself that I'd done anything wrong, so I blamed it on Snape. And maybe I was jealous, that he and Remus and Sirius got to be near you, when I could only watch from a distance. I couldn't bring myself to move on, knowing that you were so disappointed in me. I wanted to fix things with you, but I didn't know how, since the dead can't interact with the living, and then Lestrange called me..."

"It's okay, Dad," Harry said, still weeping. "You made mistakes, but so did I. I'll always love you, Dad."

"And I love you, son," James whispered, wrapping his arms around Harry and hugging him tightly. "I'll always love you, even after I'm...gone." And despite everything that had happened, James had to be grateful to Rabastan for this one moment, for the chance to hold his son.

"Professor Dumbledore told me once that the ones we love are always with us," Harry said.

"He's a very wise old man," James said with a smile. "I should have listened to him more often. Try and do better than me, okay?"

"Okay, Dad," Harry said, laughing a little as he wept.

James gave Harry one last, fierce hug, and then released him. "I'm not sure how long I can fight off the...the Dark part of me," he said. "I don't want to take any chances. I'm not sure that I can separate myself from Lestrange on my own, so I need you to cast that spell, Harry."

Harry nodded reluctantly. "It won't hurt you, will it?"

"No," James replied, although he didn't really know which specific spell Harry was casting. But it didn't matter; painful or not, he needed to move on so that he wouldn't be a danger to his son.

"If he moves on willingly, I do not believe that spell will cause him pain," Snape said.

"Do we still need to draw the Circle of Power?" Harry asked.

"No," Snape replied. "The Circle is necessary to bind an uncooperative spirit, but if he isn't fighting the spell, then you don't need the Circle to hold him in place."

"All right," Harry said. He wasn't sure if he could still recite the incantation from memory after everything that had happened, so he pulled the shrunken spell book out of his pocket, and it immediately reverted back to its normal size.

"Harry?" James said. "Before I go, I just want you to know...it's okay with me if you want to call Sirius 'Dad'."

"Really?" Harry asked.

"Really," James said, smiling sincerely. "Padfoot and I are like brothers, so we're all one big family. I'm glad he'll be there to look after you. Take care of Harry for me, Padfoot."

"I will," Sirius said, and he came over and hugged James. "Say hi to Lily for me," he said as they separated, brushing tears from his eyes.

"I will," James said, then Lupin went over and hugged him, too. "I'm sorry, Moony," he whispered. "I hope you'll be happy with him."

"I already am," Lupin assured him. "I finally have a family of my own. I've never been happier in my life." 

"Good," James said. "Take care, Moony."

"Take care, Prongs. Give my love to Lily."

When Lupin released him, James turned towards Dylan. "I'm sorry," he said. "I can never apologize enough for what I did to you."

Dylan hesitated, then shrugged. "I can forgive what you did to me, for Remus's sake. But if Blaise hadn't been able to heal the Professor, I would never have forgiven you. And undead or not, I would have found a way to take revenge on you."

His silver-gray eyes gleamed with menace, and for a moment, he looked like his father, when Evan had been a devoted, fanatical Death Eater. But this time James did not take offense; he deserved it, and he would have felt the same way towards anyone who had threatened someone that he loved. "I believe it," James said quietly. "I'm glad that won't be necessary." And then he remembered his talk with Evan in the waiting room. "But there is one thing I can do for you before I go, that perhaps will make up, just a little, for what I've done. While I was in limbo, watching over Harry, I met your father."

"What?!" Dylan cried, his eyes lighting up with mingled disbelief, suspicion, and hope.

"He stayed to watch over you, too," James said. "We weren't really supposed to meet, but there was some sort of problem on Halloween, when the spirits of the dead can move more freely...oh, it doesn't really matter how. I met Evan, and like me, he had stayed behind to watch over his son. He was grateful that Snape and Remus were there to take care of you, but he regretted that he wasn't able to be there himself."

"Is...is he still there...here...watching over me?" Dylan asked, his voice trembling.

"No," James said gently, shaking his head. "He wasn't as stubborn as I was. After Voldemort died and he knew you were safe, he chose to move on, together with your mother. You couldn't see or hear them, but they said goodbye to you on the battlefield. He said that he loved you, that you were the one good thing that had emerged out of all the evil he had done in his life. He and your mother both said that they loved you, that they knew Moony and Snape would look after you, and that they hoped you would be happy."

Dylan burst into tears, and Snape wrapped his arms around the boy protectively. "I swear, Potter," he growled in a low, threatening voice, "if you're toying with him..."

"I swear on my honor as a Gryffindor, on my parents' graves, by my love for Lily, that I'm telling you the truth," James said solemnly. "I swear it, Dylan. Evan was my enemy...but he regretted what he had done with the Death Eaters, and he truly did love you."

"And my parents?" Dylan wept, staring at James with pleading eyes. "They're together?"

"Yes," James replied. "They moved on into the afterlife together, and..." He thought about what Death had said about second chances. "Those of us who haven't moved on yet aren't allowed to know exactly what comes next, but...I have a feeling that they're all right. Death promised them that they would be together."

"Thank you," Dylan whispered, and collapsed against Snape's chest, sobbing. Snape continued to hold his foster son, while he stared at James with a thoughtful, brooding, but not entirely hostile look in his black eyes.

James smiled at Snape. "You must have been a good parent to that boy, Snape," he said. "Even bound, he fought me tooth and nail. Said he wouldn't let me hurt his father. He was talking about you, not Evan."

Snape's eyes widened. He said nothing, but held Dylan a little more tightly.

"I'm ready, Harry," James said, turning to face his son. When Harry hesitated, he smiled and said, "It's okay, Harry; I'll be all right. It's past time for me to go, and I've missed Lily all these years."

So Harry opened the spell book, took a deep breath, and began reciting the incantation. Selima told Prospero and Sirius, "We should prepare to restrain Rabastan after James's spirit departs, just in case."

"You're right," Sirius said, taking out his wand and pointing it at James.

"Practical as always, my love," Prospero agreed approvingly.

"My love?" Sirius asked, raising his eyebrows.

Selima glared at Prospero, who said smiled and said, "Sorry, it just slipped out...heat of the moment, after a pitched battle and all that..." But there was a mischievous glint in his eyes, and he did not look particularly repentant.

"Watch your step, or I may finish off what Potter started," Selima threatened in a cool voice, pointing to his wounded shoulder with her wand. But against her will, her lips twitched slightly and curved up in a very faint, barely perceptible smile.

"Well, bugger me," Sirius muttered to himself.

"I didn't think you swung that way, Padfoot," Lupin said with a grin. "I thought that was more my line." He chortled to himself as Snape gave him a sour look over Dylan's shoulder.

"Gryffindors," Snape sighed, shaking his head disgustedly. Dylan raised his head up from Snape's chest and laughed, rubbing his sleeve against his eyes.

Harry uttered the last word of the incantation, and everyone gasped as the shadowy, transparent form of James Potter slowly floated up and out of the body of Rabastan Lestrange, which had now returned to its true form. Rabastan fainted, collapsing to the ground as James separated completely from him, but Sirius bound him with magical ropes anyway, just to be safe.

"Death," James called. "I'm ready!" And instantly, a pale, dark-haired girl was standing next to him. She was dressed in Muggle clothing, a black tank top and jeans, and she was wearing a silver ankh around her neck. Her eyes were outlined with kohl, a curling black spiral extending below her right eye.

"It's about time!" Death said reprovingly.

"I'm sorry," James said humbly. "You were right all along. Still, I'm glad that I got the chance to say goodbye to Harry." Then something occurred to him. "Say...why didn't you drag me back to the waiting room after I escaped, the way you did when I fell through into Evan's room?"

Death sighed irritably. "I hold power over the dead, not the living. I couldn't touch you while you were in a living body. Of course, I could have arranged matters to hasten your--or rather, Rabastan's--death along, but that would be cheating. And besides, I was hoping that you would come to your senses on your own."

"Thank you," James said, touched that she'd had faith in him, in spite of how stubborn and foolish he had been. Then he noticed that the other wizards were gawping at them in openmouthed shock. "Er...I thought that living people couldn't see me in this form, or you, for that matter."

"I bent the rules a bit for Harry's sake," Death admitted. "So that you wouldn't just be vanishing into thin air from his point of view." She grinned conspiratorially at James and winked at him. "Don't tell my brothers and sisters, all right?"

"All right," James agreed obediently, wondering who Death's brothers and sisters might be, then decided that maybe he would rather not know.

"Take my hand, James," Death said, and this time James reached out and placed his hand in hers. She clasped his hand firmly, her grip warm and secure and somehow reassuring, like shaking hands with an old friend.

"Goodbye, Harry," James said softly, looking back at his son one last time.

"Goodbye, Dad," Harry said, tears running down his face. "Say hi to Mum for me."

A doorway of golden light opened up in front of James and Death, and a pretty red-haired woman peered through it, smiling at Harry. "Say 'hi' yourself," she said, smiling mischievously.

"M...Mum?" gasped Harry.

"You've grown into a fine young man, Harry," Lily said, smiling at him with tears in her eyes. "I'm so proud of you."

James glanced at Death, who shrugged and said, "So I bent a few more rules." 

"Thanks," James said with a grin. He followed Death to the doorway, where Lily crossed her arms over her chest, glared at him, and said, "When we get to where we're going, you and I are going to have a long talk, mister."

James smiled sheepishly at his wife and said meekly, "Yes, dear."

Death and James stepped through the doorway, and as it slowly closed up behind them, James and Lily turned and waved. "Goodbye, Harry!" Lily called. "We love you!"

"I love you, Mum!" Harry shouted, tears streaming down his face. "I love you, Dad!"

"I love you, Harry," James said, looking contented and at peace with himself. "Be happy."

"Look after him for us, Sirius, Rem-" Lily called, but her voice faded away as the doorway closed and blinked out of existence.

"We will, Lily," Lupin said quietly to the empty air. A tear slowly trickled down his face, but he was smiling. Sirius just went over to Harry and hugged him tightly.

And then, with loud cracking noises, Branwen appeared, along with a team of green-robed mediwizards. Accompanying them were three Aurors--Tonks, Kingsley, and Dawlish.

"Well, you certainly took your time getting here!" Lupin scolded them, with the fierce protectiveness of a wolf for its mate. "Severus could have bled to death by now if Blaise hadn't been here to heal him!"

Branwen glared at the mediwizards. "They refused to go anywhere near a fugitive Death Eater, despite numerous threats on my part. I must be losing my touch."

The mediwizards, who paled and broke out into a sweat under the weight of her glare, looked as though they would disagree. "We're healers, not Aurors," one of them whined. "It isn't fair to ask us to put ourselves in danger."

Branwen gave him another glare, and the mediwizard instantly shut up. "I'm sure that Mr. Kimura, at least, would have been brave enough to come to your aid, but he wasn't at the hospital today."

"Yes, he said he was taking a few days off to help Aric get settled in," Lupin said.

"So I had to go to the Ministry and bring some Aurors to act as guards before the St. Mungo's staff would agree to come," Branwen finished. "That's why I took so long." She turned to the mediwizards and snapped, "Well, what are you waiting for? I see three injured people here!" And the mediwizards rushed over to tend to Snape's, Harry's, and Prospero's wounds.

"Remus, are you all right?" Tonks asked Lupin anxiously.

"I'm fine," Lupin assured her. "This is all Severus's blood. Although I wouldn't be all right if Severus had..." His voice trailed off and he shuddered. Then he hugged Blaise tightly and said fervently, "Thank you so much, Blaise!"

"You don't have to thank me, Professor," Blaise told him. "Professor Snape protected me from the Death Eaters, after all. I'm glad to have the chance to repay him, in a small way."

"There's nothing 'small' about what you did," Lupin said firmly, hugging him again. "And you can call me Remus now that you're out of school, you know." As he released Blaise, he exclaimed, "Oh dear, now I've gotten blood all over you, too!"

"It's okay, Remus," Blaise laughed. "It'll wash off."

"It seems that you've already wrapped things up for us, quite literally," Kingsley said, sounding a little disappointed as he spotted the unconscious and bound Rabastan Lestrange.

"You should have notified the Ministry as soon as Lestrange made contact with you," Dawlish said, frowning disapprovingly.

"We were a little busy," Selima said tartly.

"And he...or rather, James...had threatened to harm Dylan if we alerted the Aurors," Lupin said placatingly.

"Was he really possessed by James Potter's ghost?" Dawlish asked, looking confused.

"It's a long story," Branwen replied.

"Well then," Dawlish said briskly. "Let us take the prisoner into custody, and then we can all go back to the Ministry and you can explain it to us."

"These three should go to St. Mungo's for further treatment," the mediwizard in charge said, sounding much more calm and professional now that the potential threat of Rabastan had been neutralized.

"Of course," Kingsley agreed. "We can take their statements later."

"And someone should go back to Snape Manor and tell Theo what happened," Blaise suggested. "I'm sure he's very worried."

"Let me go back to the Manor and let Theo know that we're all right," Lupin said. "Then he can go to St. Mungo's to be with Severus, and I'll go to the Ministry to give my statement."

"That's fine, Remus," Kingsley said with a sympathetic smile. 

Dawlish hesitated for a moment, then said a bit grudgingly, "I suppose that's all right."

Lupin kissed Snape on the cheek and said, "I'll come see you as soon as I'm done at the Ministry."

"I won't hold my breath," Snape said dryly, knowing that Lupin would be questioned at length by the Aurors, especially Dawlish, who was a stickler for the rules.

Lupin just laughed, then Apparated home to see his anxious son.


	13. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lupin goes to St. Mungo's to check on his wounded companions.

After some very long interviews and a great deal of explaining, Lupin and the others were finally released by the Ministry. They were scolded for not reporting the kidnapping and Rabastan's appearance to the Ministry sooner, but since they had managed to capture Rabastan, they were let off with only a reprimand, and no mention was made of any Dark spells that might have been used to combat the Revenant.

The Ministry also decided not to make public the knowledge that Rabastan had summoned James's spirit and turned him into a Revenant. This was partly to spare Harry further pain and embarrassment, but mostly because the public at large was just beginning to settle down after the alleged werewolf attacks and Death Eater conspiracies had been proven false. Most of the Ministry officials--Arthur Weasley among them--were afraid that the news that a fallen hero of the war had been temporarily turned into a an undead Dark Creature would only cause more fear and unrest.

"I would prefer not to cover things up," Arthur said quietly. "But I think it would be better to let James rest in peace, and leave his memory untarnished. The last Death Eater at large has been captured, and that's all the public needs to know. I doubt that they would believe the truth, anyway, even if we told them what really happened. I can scarcely believe it myself." Then he smiled, thanked them for apprehending Rabastan, and allowed them to leave, saying that they must be anxious to get to St. Mungo's. Tonks and Kingsley went with them, to take statements from Snape, Harry, and Prospero.

Sirius, Branwen, and Kingsley went to visit Harry, while Lupin, Selima, Dylan, Blaise, and Tonks went to see Snape. Theodore was sitting at Snape's bedside, and he said accusingly to Blaise, "I can't believe that you and Professor Blackmore Apparated off and left me stuck at the Manor with Vorcher," but he was smiling.

"It wasn't my idea," Blaise protested good-naturedly. "The Professor didn't really give me a choice; she just grabbed my arm and Disapparated!"

Theodore laughed and hugged his lover, saying, "Thank you for saving Father's life!"

"He'll be all right, then?" Lupin asked the Healer who had been treating Snape. It was the same Healer who was in charge of the Spell Damage ward, the one who had asked Snape to brew the poison antidote for Aric and Williamson.

"The Professor will be fine," the Healer replied. "Mr. Zabini did a good job treating him, and probably saved his life. He should fully recover in a few days, but I'm afraid that there might be some scarring, even with magical healing and applications of healing salve. The wound was so large and deep..."

"It doesn't matter," Lupin said, smiling tenderly at his mate. "I will consider it a badge of honor, a scar bravely earned in combat."

Snape looked a little embarrassed and muttered sarcastically, "It's not like I'm worried about ruining my good looks."

"Unlike Dylan," Theodore said, grinning at his foster brother. "The entire female population of Hogwarts would be devastated if he marred his pretty face or body with a scar." Then he hugged Dylan and whispered in a more serious voice, "I'm glad that you're all right."

"I'm fine," Dylan said reassuringly, but the Healer frowned at his bloodstained hands and wrists. Dylan allowed the Healer to examine him, but insisted, "I'm fine; they're just minor cuts and scratches. I'll put a little salve on them later."

"This will be quicker," the Healer said, and cast a brief healing spell that caused the wounds to vanish, and Dylan thanked him.

Lupin thanked him also, then asked, "Can Severus come home, or will he have to stay in the hospital?"

The Healer smiled. "Well, I suggested that he stay overnight for observation, but the Professor objected most vehemently." Snape scowled fiercely at the Healer. "And if he's well enough to argue, I suppose that he's well enough to go home. Just make sure that he takes it easy for a couple of days, and remembers to apply the healing salve to his wound three times daily until it's fully healed."

"I'm perfectly capable of remembering those instructions on my own," Snape said tartly. "You needn't talk about me like I'm an invalid or a child."

"Oh, don't be so grumpy, Severus," Lupin said, bending down to give him a kiss on the cheek. "I'm looking forward to being able to fuss over you. And you ought to be looking forward to having me wait on you hand and foot."

"Merlin help us, a werewolf playing nursemaid," Snape said, rolling his eyes.

The Healer politely excused himself, saying that Snape could leave whenever he was ready. Tonks had to interview Snape, but mercifully kept the session brief. "Just going through the motions to satisfy the bureaucrats," she said cheerfully. "Everything is pretty much wrapped up already. Lestrange was already tried and sentenced in absentia after he fled, so we don't even have to hold a trial, although he could hire a lawyer and file an appeal. But even if he should get a new trial, which is rather doubtful, the Wizengamot would never let him go free."

"Is he going to push for a new trial?" Snape asked. "Is he even still sane, after practicing Necromancy and sharing his skull with Potter?"

"Well, so far he's not putting up a fight," Tonks replied. "He was put in a solitary cell at Azkaban, and I'm told that he just sighed contentedly and said how quiet and peaceful it was. I'm not sure whether that counts as sane or not. But either way, he's no threat to anyone right now." Then she grinned. "You know, you're quite the hero, Severus--saving Harry's life by risking your own, and quite dramatically, too! You even have the scar to prove it! Arthur wants to recommend you for the Order of Merlin."

Snape groaned in dismay. "Please, not for saving Potter--it would ruin my reputation! If they must give me a medal, at least let it be for capturing Rabastan!"

"Yes, you wouldn't want people knowing that you acted like a noble, self-sacrificing Gryffindor," Lupin teased.

"Like an idiotic, reckless Gryffindor, you mean," Snape grumbled. "I only did it so that--"

"You could pay off your debt to the Potters, yes, yes, I know," Lupin finished soothingly.

"Don't patronize me, Lupin," Snape said sulkily.

Tonks chuckled and said, "Well, I ought to go interview Mr. Zabini now. I'll leave you two lovebirds alone." Then she quickly ducked out the door, just barely evading a jar of healing salve (which the Healer had left behind) that Snape hurled at her. The jar bounced off the wall and landed to the floor with a loud clatter, but did not break.

"Temper, temper, Severus," Lupin chided mildly.

"Um...I should go check on Grandfather," Blaise said hastily.

"I'll go with you," Theodore volunteered. 

"Yes, and I should thank him for helping to rescue me," Dylan said, grinning at his parents.

"Yes, you go on ahead," Lupin said cheerfully. "I'll look after Severus." The boys left and Lupin asked Selima with a mischievous smile, "Don't you want to look in on Prospero as well?"

"His wound was hardly life-threatening," Selima said coolly, giving Lupin an icy stare. "However, I will look in on him--after I have a word with Severus." When Lupin didn't move and just stood there smiling pleasantly, she coughed delicately and added, "In private, if you don't mind, Professor."

"Oh, of course!" Lupin said brightly. "I'll just visit Harry and Prospero, and I'll be back in a few minutes." 

Snape gave his mother a wary look, obviously wondering what she wanted. "I suppose that I should thank you for giving me a brief respite," he said after Lupin had left. "The werewolf's good cheer does get a little grating after awhile."

"Sometimes I think that he does it on purpose," Selima said.

"I'm quite sure that he does," Snape said dryly. "So, Mother...what did you want to tell me that you can't say in front of Lupin?"

Selima hesitated, flushed, then cast her eyes downward and said softly, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Snape asked, staring at her in confusion.

"For not protecting you from your father," Selima whispered, still staring at the floor, unable to meet his eyes. "I let him punish you as he saw fit, up to and including a Cruciatus Curse. My own parents used hexes to punish me when I was a child...but I had never experienced a full-strength Crucio spell before. I didn't really know what it was like. I know that it's too late now, but...I am sorry, Severus."

Snape stared at his mother; it was rare to see proud Lady Snape so humbled, and he found it disconcerting and slightly disturbing. He thought of the way he had hated her as a child, and their awkward attempts to build a lasting truce for Theodore's sake. He thought of the way she had wept when Theodore suffered a fractured skull when a Bludger hit him during a Quidditch match, and how she had apologized to him once before, after that very same match, as a matter of fact, for not stopping his father from punishing him. And then he belatedly realized that for the first time that he could recall, Selima had called Lupin by his first name earlier today when they had been discussing how to combat the Revenant. And she had let the dog remain in the house for Dylan's sake.

Snape sat up in bed and shrugged, wincing a little when the motion tugged at his healing wound and caused a twinge of pain. "We agreed to let the past be, Mother. And...while I can't say that I forgive Father for what he did, perhaps it prepared me for what was to come." He smiled, a bit grimly. "The Dark Lord inflicted the Cruciatus on his servants many times, whenever we displeased him or simply when he happened to be in a bad mood. In a way, Father's punishments strengthened me, because I was already accustomed to the pain. I can't say that it was ever pleasant or anything less than excruciating, but my prior experience did allow me to handle it better than the other Death Eaters. I did scream; one can't help it, of course, but I never groveled or wept or begged for mercy, and that did help me win the Dark Lord's respect and favor."

Selima turned pale, seeming more taken aback and troubled than reassured by his words. "Severus, I..."

"It's all right, Mother," Snape said quietly. "As you said, it's too late to change the past. We should concentrate on the present and the future." He asked, a little hesitantly, "We've been doing well enough lately, haven't we?"

"Yes," Selima said, with a startled but grateful smile. "Well enough, for the most part. At least, Professor Lupin hasn't scolded us much recently." They both laughed, then Selima said in a more serious voice, "Why don't you come home and recuperate at the Manor, Severus? If you were only staying away because of the dog..."

"We would have come over sooner if Lupin hadn't insisted on adopting that mutt," Snape said, with an exaggerated sigh of disgust. "He wanted to take a couple of weeks to train the dog properly in the hope that you would allow him to bring it to the Manor. But since you've already granted Cabal dispensation, there's really no reason to delay."

"The dog seems fairly well-behaved," Selima admitted. "Besides, as we already have a werewolf running loose in the Manor, I suppose that a dog doesn't make that much difference."

Snape let out a short, gruff, but sincerely amused bark of laughter. "No, I suppose not!"

"I'm going to check on Prospero before I return home," Selima said. 

"Go ahead, Mother," Snape said. "We'll meet you back at the Manor."

"I'll tell Vorcher to prepare your rooms," Selima said, and then departed.

Prospero certainly seemed healthy enough, when Selima found him chatting cheerfully with Lupin, Theodore, Dylan, and Blaise. However, she learned from the Healer that his wound was a little more serious than it looked.

"On the surface it looks like a minor burn, easily treated with Burn-Healing Paste," the Healer explained. "But looks can be deceiving. The spell actually burned past the skin, deep into the muscle tissue, down to the bone."

"Will he be all right?" Selima asked, beginning to grow worried.

But the Healer nodded and smiled reassuringly. "He should make a full recovery so long as he takes the potions that I'm prescribing, and applies salve to the wound regularly. It'll take about a week to heal completely. In the meantime, he should avoid putting any strain on that shoulder--no heavy lifting and so on."

The Healer left, and Prospero said mischievously, with a sidelong glance towards Selima, "I understand that Remus will be playing nursemaid to Severus. It's a pity that I don't have someone to look after me."

"I'll look after you, Grandfather," Blaise volunteered, with a look of wide-eyed innocence.

"That's very kind of you, Blaise," Prospero replied, "but I was hoping for a slightly prettier nursemaid."

"Perhaps Professor Lupin can look after you, Prospero," Selima said sarcastically. "Since he will already be playing nursemaid to Severus."

"Ah, does that mean that I can stay at the Manor while I recuperate?" Prospero purred as Selima blushed.

Lupin grinned and said sweetly, "It would be an honor to look after my favorite author." As Selima turned to glare at him, he added, "Come on, boys, let's go check on Harry," and quickly hustled himself and the three boys out of the room and closed the door behind him, leaving Selima and Prospero alone.

There was a long, awkward silence, where they just stared at each other, and there was a hint of anxiety in Prospero's eyes despite his mischievous smile.

"I'm glad that you're all right," Selima finally said. "I hadn't realized that your wound was that severe."

"I'm fine," Prospero said. "Severus's injury was much worse than mine."

"Severus had reason to risk his life," Selima said, giving Prospero a thoughtful look. "He thinks of Dylan as his son. But Dylan is not your kin..."

"Oh, there's probably a Rosier or a Talbott or a Donner in the Zabini family tree if you go far back enough," Prospero said lightly. "But it doesn't really matter whether we're related by blood or not. He's one of Blaise's best friends." He smiled tenderly at Selima and said quietly, "And you care about him. That alone is reason enough for me to fight for him."

Selima flushed again, and said uncertainly, "Prospero...I..."

"Don't worry, Selima," Prospero said, the laughter and mischief gone from his voice now. "I was only kidding about staying at the Manor. Your mourning period for Severin is not yet over, and I would never do anything to dishonor you or cast a stain on your reputation."

"But...your shoulder..."

Prospero smiled. "I can manage to look after myself one-handed for a few days, and if not, I can stay with my son and his family until I'm healed. But don't think that I'm giving up. Once your year of mourning is up, I intend to start paying court to you."

"I don't intend to remarry, Prospero," Selima said defiantly. "Someone needs to look after the Snape estate, and Severus spends most of his time at Hogwarts and Theodore is still working on his apprenticeship. If I am no longer Lady Snape, I will not legally have the right to run the affairs of the Snape family. And..." Her voice trembled slightly.

"I understand," Prospero said gently. "You did not seek to become Lady Snape, but you earned that title and the power conferred by it, through years of hard work. I understand that you cannot just give it up." 

Selima looked a little ashamed at his words, but still defiant as well. They both knew that it was more than duty that was behind her desire to keep the title, but Prospero did not fault her for it. It was his fault, after all, that she'd been forced into an arranged marriage with Severin Snape. It was his fault that she'd had to give up on love, and been left with only power and status to cling to for comfort. She had been Lady Snape for so many years that the thought of losing the title must seem like losing her identity, and Prospero had no desire to take it from her if she needed it that badly.

"I care nothing for propriety, Selima, you know that," Prospero said softly. "All I care about is you. All I want is to be with you, even if you never become my wife or take my name. I would be happy to live in blissful sin with you, or even just to pay discreet visits to the Manor in secret. No one would need to know about us, if that is what you wish."

"You...you would do that for me?" Selima whispered.

"I would do anything to remain by your side," Prospero replied, in a quiet yet intense voice. "I let you go once, Selima. I will never make that mistake again. Even if you turn me down, I won't give up. I'll wait for you, for as long as it takes."

There was another long silence, which Selima broke by saying, "Living in sin would be scandalous indeed, but between my son and the werewolf, and your grandson and mine, scandal is becoming routine for the Snape family." She hesitated for a moment, then continued, "I'm not ready to give you an answer now, but...ask me again, after the year of mourning is over."

"I will," Prospero said. He smiled and held out his hand, palm up, and Selima placed her hand in his. And they both knew, despite what she had just said, that she had already given him her answer.

Lupin lingered outside the room, his keen werewolf hearing able to pick up every whisper, despite the closed door. A very satisfied, almost smug smile spread slowly across his face, then he quietly tiptoed away down the corridor towards Harry's room.

A short time later, Snape was out of bed and preparing to leave the hospital. He was just donning his robe (torn and bloodstained, but he would only have to wear it long enough to take the Floo back to the Manor) when the door opened. He was not surprised to see Lupin, but he was a little surprised to see Potter with him. The boy's robes were torn and bloodstained like Snape's, but his wounds, which had been much less serious, all seemed to be healed.

"What did you want, Potter?" Snape asked. After the words had left his mouth, it occurred to him that they were something less than gracious, considering that the boy had willingly put himself at risk to help Dylan. On the other hand, it was his father's fault that Dylan's life had been endangered in the first place, and besides, Snape rather doubted that anyone would expect graciousness from him, no matter what the circumstances.

"I just wanted to thank you, sir," Harry said earnestly. "For saving my life."

Snape scowled at the boy. Really, he much preferred it when Potter junior had hated him and stared at him with insolent defiance! All this Gryffindor idealism was slightly nauseating in large doses; putting up with Lupin on a regular basis was about all that he could handle.

"You need not thank me, Mr. Potter," Snape said coolly. "As far as I am concerned, we are even. You owe nothing to me, and I am freed of all obligation to the Potter clan."

Harry seemed unsure of whether a response was expected from him or not, but he nodded and said, "Yes, sir."

"Well, run along then, Potter," Snape said gruffly.

"Yes, sir," Harry said obediently, then paused at the door. "And sir...I'm glad that you'll be okay."

Lupin chuckled as Snape glowered fiercely at Harry's departing back. "You get angry when he's rude to you, and angry when he's polite. There's just no pleasing you, Severus."

"The Potters don't need to expend any effort to be annoying," Snape grumbled. "It seems to be an inherent trait. At least with Mr. Potter having graduated, I won't have to see one in my classroom for quite some time."

"Not until Harry marries and has children at least," Lupin agreed with a smile.

"That's more than a decade away at the very least," Snape said dismissively. "Two, if we're lucky. By that time I could be Headmaster." He grinned evilly. "And I won't let the little brats get away with the things that Dumbledore did."

Lupin laughed, then asked, "Severus?"

"Yes?" Snape replied, noticing that the expression on his lover's face had changed from mischievous to pensive.

"Did James's apology make things any better for you?" Lupin asked hesitantly. "I mean...did it give you a sense of closure, or anything like that?"

Snape frowned slightly. "I wasn't really thinking about it, Lupin. I was more worried about bleeding to death and trying to send Potter on to his heavenly reward before the Revenant took over again. I don't think that I can forgive him, if that's what you're asking."

"I know that's probably too much to ask," Lupin agreed. "He did some terrible things to you. But...it made me feel a little better, to know that he finally realizes what he did was wrong. It's always bothered me, that he could behave so cruelly and feel no remorse. He was always kind to me, of course, but seeing that side of him used to frighten me."

Snape tilted his head to one side and gazed at Lupin curiously. "I have been and still can be quite cruel at times. Do I frighten you?"

Lupin thought it over and replied, "No, not really."

"Why not?" Snape demanded, sounding a little offended.

Lupin smiled. "I don't know. Maybe because it's an inherent trait of yours." Snape gave him a sour look at hearing his own words repeated back to him, and Lupin laughed. "Sorry, I don't mean to be flippant. Perhaps it's because you never tried to hide that side of yourself. The two of you have always been opposites, Severus. James was outwardly friendly and compassionate, with a hidden streak of cruelty towards those he did not like. While you, on the other hand, have a hidden streak of compassion beneath the outward air of menace that you project."

Snape scowled at Lupin. "You see everything through rose-colored lenses, Lupin. And please don't mention your ridiculous theories to anyone else; you'll ruin my reputation."

Lupin laughed merrily and reached out and cupped Snape's face between his hands. "I don't want to make you over into a Gryffindor, my love. I told you before, I love you as you are--your bad temper, your Slytherin deviousness, all of it. I love you, Severus." And he kissed Snape very gently and tenderly on the mouth.

"Hmmph!" Snape said, but his expression softened slightly. "And I love you, Remus, even if your Gryffindor idealism gets on my nerves at times."

Lupin slipped his arms around Snape's waist and gingerly embraced him, being very careful of his still-healing wound. "Thank you for helping James to move on," he said softly. When Snape started to protest, Lupin added, "Oh, I know that you were only trying to save Dylan and that you didn't do it for James's sake, but thank you anyway. It meant a lot to me, and to Harry too, to be able to say goodbye to James."

"Yes, well, hopefully we've heard the last of Potter senior," Snape said gruffly. 

"I got the impression that he was moving on permanently," Lupin said.

"Good," Snape said. "Because I can like him much better knowing that I'll never have to see him again." Lupin laughed, and Snape smiled, suddenly feeling much better, knowing that James could never come between them again. Not just because he was dead--permanently, this time, one hoped--but because Lupin was now strong enough to stand by his chosen mate regardless of what his friends thought.

"At least Potter did one good thing before he died," Snape said, only slightly grudgingly. "He gave Dylan some comfort and closure regarding Evan." He paused, then asked, "Do you really think that he met Evan in...er...limbo?"

"I don't think he would lie about something like, Severus," Lupin replied. "He hated Evan, almost as much as he hated you. He wouldn't offer comforting lies about an enemy, not even to try to make up for what he did to Dylan. I believe that James really did meet Evan, and was able to see him as a human being--flawed, but still human--instead of a monster."

Snape just nodded. He still didn't like James, and doubted that he ever would, nor did he precisely forgive his old enemy. But he felt a strange sense of freedom, as if those old childhood memories and hurts and resentments no longer weighed on him so heavily. Maybe he had found closure of a sort, after all. Or maybe it had nothing to do with James, but rather was Lupin's loving smile that lightened his heart. He silently reached out, took Lupin's hand, and lifted it to his lips.

Lupin smiled at him tenderly, then said musingly, "You know, meeting Death was sort of a comforting experience as well, in a weird sort of way. I mean, I always thought of death as something kind of scary--maybe because there was a good chance that I was going to die quite violently and painfully as a member of the Order--but Death personified turned out to be pretty nice. Not that I'm in a hurry to meet her face-to-face, but when it happens...it's a little comforting to know that Death seems to be kind and compassionate, and even has a sense of humor. Not at all the stereotypical image of the Grim Reaper." He paused for a moment, then said more to himself than to Snape, "I never imagined Death as female before. Does that make me sexist?"

"The fact that she was wearing Muggle clothing bothers me much more than the fact that she's female," Snape muttered sourly.

"Perhaps she appears differently to each person she comes for," Lupin suggested. "James spent a lot of time in the Muggle world, thanks to Lily, but perhaps to a Slytherin, Death would appear garbed in traditional wizard's robes. Besides, if you think about it, there's no reason why she shouldn't be dressed as a Muggle. Many more Muggles die than wizards, just because there are so many more of them than us. And we do tend to be a bit longer lived."

"When we aren't being slain by Death Eaters and Dark Lords, that is," Snape said dryly.

Just then, Dylan, Theodore, and Selima (who, it seemed, had not gone ahead to the Manor after all) walked into the room. "Are you ready to go home, Father?" Theodore asked.

"Yes," Snape replied without hesitation. Lupin smiled and held out his hand, and Snape took it. Somewhat to his surprise, Snape noticed that Selima did not object; she did not even roll her eyes at them or sigh in resignation. 

"Let us go home, then," she murmured, so they did. And for the first time, surrounded by his family--lover, sons, mother--Snape truly felt at home in the Manor, and was sincerely glad to be there. He was slightly appalled to find that he was even glad to see Cabal and Vorcher. He worried that Lupin might have infected him with his Gryffindor sentimentality, but he kept that rather embarrassing piece of information to himself, and let Lupin lead him upstairs to their room.

Lupin insisted that Snape should get some rest, and helped him undress and climb into bed, fussing over him solicitously while Snape grumbled vociferously, all the time secretly enjoying it. Finally, once Snape was securely tucked into bed, Lupin kissed him on the cheek and said, "I'll let you get some rest now, Severus. I'll check on you later."

"I'm not dying," Snape said peevishly. "It's not like you need to check on me every five minutes to make sure that I'm still alive."

Lupin just smiled at him, cheerful and unflappable as always. "I'll give you some peace and quiet, then."

But as Lupin started to leave, Snape found himself calling, "Remus?"

"Yes, Severus?"

"You can...er...stay if you like," Snape mumbled. 

"Oh?" Lupin asked innocently. "I thought that I was annoying you with all my fussing and ceaseless chatter."

"Let me amend that," Snape said tartly. "You can stay as long as you're quiet. It's just that if you're going to be popping in and out 'checking' on me, I would find it much less annoying if you just remained here to begin with."

"As you wish, Severus," Lupin said, smiling tenderly, then he undressed and crawled under the covers beside Snape. He said nothing more, apparently obeying Snape's admonishment to be quiet, and simply wrapped his arms around his lover. Snape sighed, feeling secure and content in his beloved's embrace. And just before he drifted off to sleep, he thought he heard Lupin whisper, "I love you, Severus. You are first in my heart, always."


End file.
